


Dear Fellow Traveler

by JellyPanda00



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Creature Fic, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Fugitives, Geralt saves Jaskier, Geralt to the rescue, It Gets Better, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kidnapping, Lots of Angst, M/M, Masturbation, OCs used just to further the plot, On the Run, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Past Abuse, Past Slavery, Slow Burn, creature!Jaskier, lots of fluff too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyPanda00/pseuds/JellyPanda00
Summary: Geralt had a rule: he refused to accept anything but coin for his work, no matter what was being offered to him. So when a man offered him a creature by the name of Jaskier, he elected to say no. After several incidents left the two no choice but to become traveling companions when they are forced to go on the run, things begin to change between the pair as they struggle to find a way for Jaskier to return to his home.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 263
Kudos: 1949
Collections: Finished Fics I Love, Long Works to Read, The Witcher Alternate Universes





	1. First Acquaintances

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! Chapter two is almost done so I can finally post chapter one!

Geralt had long since had a standing rule that there would be absolutely no substitution for payment. It was coin and coin alone. The things people offered him as stand-in’s always were either not equal in value or led to more trouble than it was worth.

They seemed to think he would accept just anything, and others it seemed were trying to set him up for disaster. For instance, a man offered him a chicken. A chicken in and of itself wasn't the problem, it had been a small job and the man was dirt poor- just a farmer trying to support his family and rid them of a monster that was terrorizing his farm. Either way, coin or chicken, it would be a meal. He left with the bird but before he could cook it, a young girl, not even a teen yet, tracked him down with tears staining her cheek and demanding her pet back. When she learned what he had been planning all hell had broken loose.

Geralt didn't eat that night.

People seemed to have the notion that he would accept anything as payment. He had been offered the oddest of things from elf skulls to pets, sexual favors, even enslaved individuals who were kept simply for not being fully human like himself. All of which (most of which, he couldn't help himself when it came to a pretty face) he politely declined, insisting on the coin.

So when the fat man, Something something with an A, whatever his name, with a Cheshire cat grin on his face who had promised him a handsome amount of ducats for killing the local rampant beast that was killing his crops on his plantation had approached him, he accepted. The man resembled a typical jackass, his obvious excessive eating used as a status symbol of wealth to show how much food he could afford for himself. 

He bore an ugly, smug smile when Geralt tossed the head of the monster down at his feet, waiting for him to produce a satchel that had the sweet jingle of metal in it which he rightly deserved. Behind him, a half-naked man coward with his wrists shackled together, not meeting anyone's gaze. He was dirty and near skin and bones, brown hair matted and oily, scars and bruises covering his fair skin. His jaw was hidden behind a gag wrapped around his head and stuffed tightly into his mouth.

Geralt nearly growled with frustration. He wasn't an idiot, he could see where this was heading.

"For payment," the fat man grabbed the other by his arm, throwing him forward and into the dirt at Geralt's boots just as he had done with the head of the monster. "Half fossegrim and half selkie."

Geralt looked down, disgusted in the treatment of the poor creature. He had never agreed with the treatment of creatures who were sentient just the same as human, not that he was going to associate himself with humanity more than he had to, and definitely was not about to strike up an argument in favor of them. It would only cause more problems than it would good. 

“Selkie maw?” he asked. The creature looked too much like a beautiful man to be half selkie maw. Those things were hideous with their slime and jowls.

The human-like creature kept his eyes to the ground, not so much as daring to look up at the stranger he was thrown to. Briefly, Geralt wondered what kind of life someone had to live to be that fearful, but he brushed the thought aside immediately, focusing on the situation at hand.

“No, just a normal selkie woman.”

It made much more sense than what he was picturing but it didn’t change his mind. "I don't accept payment in any other form than coin."

He had dealt with this far too many times, each time more tiring than the last. Rich people thinking they can pawn off whatever they wanted onto him despite having the coin to do so just to get rid of whatever they didn't want anymore.

"Well," the man snorted. "Unlucky for you, this is all you're getting. Now get lost before the same happens to you, mutant."

A quick, hard punch to the face sent the man toppling over, the snap of his nose audible even over the noise of the streets. Blood spilled over his lips, unconscious in an instant.

Great. What was he to do with the creature now?

“Fuck.”

Occasionally, Geralt could admit that he didn't think things through as often as people thought.

The Witcher turned his attention back to the man-like figure who still laid in the dirt. Even though he wasn't looking up at him, he could feel his attention was completely on him, fear palpable.

"Get up." Geralt ordered gruffly. He felt slightly bad at the panicked scramble the creature did, shaking on his feet and still not raising his head.

He could always take him to a town over, drop him off and get the hell away from this shitshow which was quickly becoming the plan.

"You're not human." Geralt sniffed at him. Humans had a distinct smell, even if only a small amount of human blood in them. "At all."

He didn't respond even with a nod or sound.

"You're sentient though. Selkie and fossegrim are smart."

The man still didn't respond.

Geralt looked around. Dusk had already settled low on the horizon and the next town would at least be half a days ride if not more with someone slowing him and Roach down. Besides, Roach undoubtedly needed to recuperate after the intense day the two had. 

"Come with me," Geralt ordered, grabbing onto Roach's reins and leading her towards an inn with stables outside. He kept an eye behind him, making sure the creature was still following him. 

Despite his new audience, he was sure to love on his horse as he removed her tack, brushing and cleaning her coat of the grime from the day. Once she was thoroughly taken care of and he had paid the stable boy enough to feed and watch after her, he turned towards the inn, not acknowledging the creature trailing after him until they got just outside the inn’s doors. He pushed the gag out of his mouth, ignoring the flinch of terror at the touch. There were harsh red lines where the cloth had been, but there was nothing he could do about that now, they’d disappear only with time.

The innkeeper raised her eyebrows at the pair when they entered the simple cottage type building. Before she could comment on the very much half-clothed, young man who looked to be half his age, wrists bound. Geralt slapped the money down onto the stone counter with a glare. The old woman gave him a sneer as if she had already made up her mind as to what was going to be happening in her room before handing him a room key, pulling the money back beneath the counter.

"Baths are drawn at sunrise if you'd like one, it'll cost extra to have one made any other time" was all she said before Geralt turned, striding down the hallway adjacent to them.

Quiet footsteps assured him that he was still in the company of his newly acquired... slave? He felt uncomfortable even thinking about owning another person or thing outside of an animal.

Once he was in the room, he opened the door in an invitation, letting the creature in first. Of course, the room had one bed, its walls blank and uninviting. At least, it was clean, which was better than the majority of the inns he had stayed in.

He shut the door to save the pair from the prying ears of the innkeeper who seemed far too interested in their affairs to be healthy. "What's your name?"

"Jaskier," the man whispered quietly.

"The town knows what you are?" Geralt asked, unlatching his armor in preparation for much-needed rest. When the creature- Jaskier- nodded, he continued. "So I can't just leave you here."

No reply.

Geralt sighed heavily, letting his armor and bag fall to the floor with a loud thump that made the other flinch back.

"Relax," Geralt said, trying to sound comforting. Instead, he seemed to tense up, even more, not helping the situation. "Do you want a bath?"

Jaskier shook his head, shrinking down into himself and pulling his bound arms closer.

Geralt wasn't a talker. It would be great if the creature would offer some type of words, explanation, anything to distract from the awkward air forming between them when Geralt didn't reply, focusing on stripping out of his armor to his undershirt and pants. “I’ll untie you in the morning when I can trust you won’t attack me in the middle of the night.”

Jaskier didn’t offer any protest.

"I'm hungry, I'm going to go find something to eat. Do you want something?" Geralt asked eventually.

It was obvious what the answer should be. Geralt could count the ribs poking out of his sides underneath the candlelight he lit to illuminate the room some since the sun had long since set. Instead, Jaskier shook his head again.

"Suit yourself," Geralt sighed, heading towards the door. He wasn't going to let him starve, he really just wanted him to speak up. He made his way to the kitchen, and though the staff was gone for the night he nabbed some bread and cheese. It wasn't exactly healthy, nor could it compare to meat, but it would do for the night. He grabbed himself a hearty helping and then an extra helping in case the creature came around to eating before heading back to the room.

When he opened the door, Jaskier was in the midst of examining the room, freezing the second the door creaked open.

Geralt huffed, plopping down into the chair at the small writing desk and spreading out the bounty of food he was able to find. Ignoring the man, he tore into the bread, groaning at the taste of food. He had long burnt off his breakfast during the fight. Thankfully he had noted that the kitchen had plenty of food, so if they ran out he could go get more.

He was well aware of the eyes watching him once his back was turned, but he didn't react, instead, chowing down and hoping he would make up his mind and come get something to eat as well.

It wasn't until he had finished off an entire loaf of bread and a hefty chunk of cheese did his stomach protest the large amount of food all at once.

"Are you finished?" That timid voice spoke up from the back of the room.

"Yeah," Geralt assured him, turning his attention.

Apparently, ending the conversation there was not what the creature needed to hear as he also stopped, not daring to vocalize what he wanted.

"Would you like some?" Geralt asked eventually, tired of the timid shyness. He understood, at least on some level. He was afraid, anyone would be. Being given to a stranger as if you meant nothing couldn't be something pleasant in any circumstances, but he really wasn’t equipped to handle… emotions.

"What will you want in return?"

It was the boldest, longest sentence Jaskier had managed to say since they had met. Geralt turned finally, gold eyes searching the creature's face.

He was so, so young looking. He knew he was an adult, most likely around his twenties, but he had a baby face to him, dull blue eyes timidly meeting his own across the room, looking ready to flee at any second.

"Nothing. It isn't as if I asked for you. I'm just trying to be,” what was the word? Not a dickhead?

“Nice."

A sad, hurt snort echoed in the cold air. "Right. A Witcher being kind to something like me."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a look of pure regret and horror crossed his face contorting something already sad into something much worse. "I'm sorry, my-my lord."

Geralt raised an eyebrow before standing. Jaskier cowered back a step, eyes wide though he made no move to run.

He stepped away from the table, holding out his arm in an open invitation. "Listen, kid, I'm tired. Eat whatever you want, we'll figure this mess out in the morning, alright?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Quit calling me that," Geralt growled, kicking his boots off beside the bed.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, puzzled.

"Geralt."

Jaskier nodded, making his way to the table. "Yes, Geralt."

Geralt rolled his eyes. It was more of a title than a name, but he'd accept it for now. "When you're finished, come get some sleep, we have a long ride tomorrow."

He could feel the uncertainty radiating off of him at the implied meaning of the sentence. Perhaps, Geralt wandered, if he didn't address it, it would be alright.

"Yes, Geralt."

Perhaps it was the exhaustion. Perhaps he was used to the many women and men he bedded, but either way even with Jaskier in the room with him, he was able to fall asleep easily. It wasn't until he felt the bed dip beside him did he stir from his slumber.

"What do you want me to do?" A quiet voice asked with a quivering hand laying gently against his forearm.

"Nothing." Geralt shook his hand off, disgusted by the mere thought of taking advantage of him in that aspect. He rolled over, turning his back to the creature. "Go to sleep, dammit."

After a long moment, he felt the body next to him relax slowly.

  
  


The morning sun had just begun to shine threw the windows, stirring Geralt from his sleep when a harsh knock at the door startled him fully awake.

"Do you require a bath drawn this morning?" A voice called threw the door.

"Yes!" he shouted back, groaning at all the yelling that was happening so early in the morning. He smelt like onions or something fouler. Either way, it was gross.

Rolling over, he was immediately greeted by those frightened blue eyes again. At least the dark bags beneath him had dissipated some, though it was easy to tell he hadn't slept nearly as much as Geralt had.

Geralt grunted at him before rising with a stretch.

Jaskier followed his lead, rising from the bed and beginning to make it. Geralt raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Instead, he wandered over to the table to hide the evidence of their raiding of the kitchen only to find nothing was left. Jaskier noticed him looking over the table and nervously spoke up. "I'm sorry."

Geralt shrugged. "I got it for us to eat, nothing to be sorry for. Before we head out we will stop at the tavern and get something better in our stomachs for the day."

Jaskier accepted the answer, visibly relaxing.

The two existed in easy silence until the inn maids came in with the water to fill the bath for them. Once they left, Geralt turned to Jaskier, examining who was dirtier. Both of them looked pretty awful. This job was costing him far more than he made which was nothing to begin with.

"I'll bathe first and then I'll ask for another bath. Alright?"

Jaskier nodded and Geralt was off to the other room he had yet to visit. In it the tub, the water the maids had just poured steamed slightly, promising the relaxation of hot water next to a toilet. He relieved himself before stripping down and relaxing back into the bath with every intention of planning out the day. They'd go find breakfast, ride until they found a safe town, and Geralt would drop Jaskier off and immediately leave. He could get supplies in town to camp out with Roach for the night until he found another job to do so he could afford a place to stay.

So lost in thought, he almost missed the beautiful melody coming from the other room. The words were low and quiet, just barely made out above the sound of the water sloshing over the sides with every move.

“What is this pulling, tugging at my

Limbs so heavy dragging me down again

So I'm hoping, this cold blue water

Scrubs me clean and spits me out again

Because I just want to feel the sunlight

Warm and soothing…”

Each word was entrancing, more beautiful than the last. Geralt could almost see the melody, feeling his body relax into the calm, sad words, sinking further and further into the water.

"Geralt!"

His eyes snapped open, surprised to see Jaskier standing above him with a scared, panicked look in his eyes. It was the first time he got a good look at his face up close, noticing how similar their eyes were. While his glowed gold, Jaskier were an unnatural blue like they held the ocean in their depths. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whimpered, falling to his knees next to the bath. 

Geralt hadn't realized how low he had sunk into the waters of the bath. He sat up quickly, wiping the water from his face. "What?"

"I didn't... I didn't think you could hear me. I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to hurt you, swear by it-" Jaskier rambled, hands fluttering around Geralt, checking to make sure he wasn't injured.

Slowly it dawned on him. He had never dealt with a fossegrim before but he knew what they were, men similar to sirens, malevolent creatures who sing with intent to drowned women just as a siren did men. He supposed it would work on anyone, not just women.

"You almost killed me," Geralt uttered, looking at Jaskier in surprise.

"I didn't mean to, sir, I would never, I was taught better than to attack my masters-"

Geralt cringed. "Don't call me that."

There was a sincere and honesty in his voice. Geralt was not a trusting man by any means, you don’t stay alive in this world by trusting.

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” he asked, disbelieving. The gag still sat around his neck, thoroughly forgotten until that moment. It must have been why his previous owner had kept his mouth bound, so he couldn’t fight back.

"Right, sorry, Geralt." Jaskier let out a sigh. "I really didn't think you could hear me in the other room.”

Geralt shrugged, ringing out his drenched hair. "You have a very beautiful voice." It was hard not to listen. “If I hear it again, I’ll gag you.”

Jaskier nodded, accepting the threat for what it was, yet still, he opened his mouth again."My mother taught me that song when I was young, I can't remember most of it, though."

Were they at the point that they were freely disclosing personal information? Not really, Geralt had only been stuck with him for less than a full day. But, he did nearly kill him. He supposed it was Jaskier's way of proving how he truly didn't mean to almost kill him.

"Do you need help bathing? I can wash your hair or your back." Jaskier offered helpfully, holding up his still bound wrists.

“I’m supposed to untie your hands and let you near me in the bath when not five minutes earlier you attacked me.”   
Jaskier looked away for a moment before back to Geralt. “That’s fair. I’m just offering my services. Mostly because I’d like to stretch if I’m being honest.”

"You're suddenly very talkative," Geralt commented, considering his options.

He didn’t trust him in the slightest. But if he wanted to, in turn, gain his trust enough to make it to the next town, there would have to be compromise. With a finality to his decision, he untied the ropes, releasing the limbs from the tight binding. Rope burn had skinned the sensitive skin, leaving raw wounds in their place as Jaskier stretched, sighing in relief as the tension from his shoulders and arms slowly melted.

Geralt, in a show of trust more than the actual feeling, relaxed back and let the man run his fingers through his hair, finding the soap offered by the inn and begin lathering it in. If anything, he figured he could kill the creature and move on if he acted on any impulse.

"The man who owned me before would have had me whipped for singing to him like that, not compliment me. And he definitely would never have stolen food for me." Jaskier explained.

Geralt wasn't about to lie, it felt wonderful to let Jaskier scrub at his scalp. "I've been trying to explain to you that I didn't want to own you in the first place."

"Well, to be fair, I'm not human in the slightest. Given to someone trained to kill... monsters. Like me." his words choked for a moment before he continued. "What was I supposed to do? Just trust that you weren't going to be as wretched and mean as everyone else?" Jaskier laughed though there was no humor in his voice. He urged Geralt's shoulders down who obliged, letting him rinse his hair gently.

When he arose, he took the soap from him, going over his body quickly before standing.

Jaskier helpfully handed him a towel with the smallest of smiles.

Geralt looked him up and down before taking the cloth. “So is that your power? Drowning people. That’s why that man had you in the first place.”

Jaskier looked away, clamming up instantly.

Geralt knew when to leave well enough alone. He stepped out of the bath, drying his skin. His clothes didn’t smell  _ that _ bad, so he shrugged his shirt back on over his head and his pants. When he turned back around, Jaskier was staring longingly at the bathwater.

“I’ll pay to have the water changed so you can bathe as well.”

He really did try not to care, but there was something about Jaskier that made him want to.

“Thank you!” he hopped up. “I’ll repay you as soon as I can.”

Geralt grunted in response. He made his way down the hall to the front desk of the innkeeper and paid, ignoring her obvious interest yet again.

The witcher made his way back to his room to assure Jaskier of where he was while he bathed before making his way to the stables to tack Roach back up. She was happy to see him, nosing and nibbling at his hair each time he bent down in front of her. Horses, he found, and animals, in general, made for great company. She had never been afraid of him, never believed the rumors spread that fueled hate of his kind. She was reliable and affectionate towards him, and really, what more could he ask for in a travel companion.

Once she was ready, he went back to the room, putting his own armor back on and throwing his bag over his shoulder with his sword.

Just as he turned around to go to the bathroom, Jaskier emerged, toweling off his hair.

With the grime and mud washed from his skin and hair finally cleaned, he made a truly beautiful sight. There was of course still scattered scars and bruises covering his skin, but he was lithe, some muscle clinging to his arms that hadn’t been eaten away yet by lack of food.

Both fossegrim and selkies were known for their beauty, and it showed in Jaskier’s body.

“Geralt?”

The Witcher shook himself out of his stare, glancing up at his face. “Do you have clothes?”

Unbothered by the Witcher’s gaze at his very much naked body, Jaskier held up a pair of pants. “It’s all I’ve got.”

Geralt nodded. “We’ll have to stop and get you a shirt and some shoes as well.”

Jaskier abandoned the towel, sliding his worn and dirty pants back on and looking at Geralt for direction as to what to do next.

“Umm…” Geralt pulled his bag off his shoulder, rifling through until he found one of his spare shirts. “It’s dirty, but it will have to do if we want to eat.” he tossed the shirt to the man which he quickly slid on.

It hung off his shoulders, so large it draped around him as if it was a dress rather than a shirt. His height at least helped to fill it in some, but not enough even when he tied the top strings around his neck as tight as he could make it. He looked like he was wearing a pillowcase almost, completely swamping him in the fabric.

Geralt’s nostrils flared. An overly attractive man wearing his shirt and smelling of him was certainly doing it for him, not that he would ever admit that to the creature. “Let’s go.”


	2. Time to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip into town takes a turn when they run into Lord Aaberg, sending the two on the run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got done a lot earlier than I thought it would so I thought I would go ahead and update! I’m working on chapter three this next week!

The way to the tavern was more or less uneventful. The two gathered more than a few pairs of eyes as they made their way through the streets but Geralt chalked the experience up to nothing more than him being a Witcher, and a famed one at that. He could hear the whispers of the White Wolf, Witcher, Butcher of Blaviken, even a few asking what the man was doing with a monster which he assumed to be the people who knew what Jaskier was.

Jaskier radiated nervous energy, keeping as close to him as he could, occasionally bumping into the Witcher.

It was fairly early in the morning but that didn't mean any slower of business for the tavern. Geralt did the talking with the woman at the bar, ordering breakfast for the two of them and ale for himself. The woman behind the counter assured him that she would get it out as soon as possible with a kind smile.

When Geralt turned, ready to find a table, however, Jaskier was gone, the spot by his side that was previously occupied empty.

Geralt looked around, scanning the crowd of early morning drinkers and people eating breakfast until finally, he spotted the creature, smiling brightly at a young lady and chatting her up happily. He held her hand, pressing a kiss to it and charmingly said something low under his breath that made her blush.

"Hmm." Geralt narrowed his eyes and sat down, gingerly sipping his much-needed alcohol. It took a lot for him to get drunk but he could damn well at least catch a buzz for the next hour or so.

Jaskier seemed to get what he wanted out of her as she handed over her lute that she had tucked under her arm. He bent, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek, making her giggle and tossed her a coin.

Where did he get the coin?

Geralt's eyes widened as he frantically patted his pockets and fishing around, finding that the satchel of coins that he had left had vanished at some point from when he had paid for their breakfast and now. He was about to stand to go grab the creature by his collar and take back his money with a low simmer of anger in his guts when Jaskier caught his eye, giving him an apologetic look and a nod of assurance that made his wild brown hair flopped over his eyes. Geralt gave him a look of daggers but stayed where he sat. It would be easy enough to wring his neck once he was done with whatever he was about to do. For now, Geralt figured, he could sit back and see what he was planning.

"Hello!" Jaskier shouted over the conversations of the other patrons. "Greetings!"

When the voices finally hushed around him showing he had the tavern's attention he smiled brightly at the room. "If you enjoy my songs please toss a coin this way, it would be greatly appreciated!"

When no one protested, he gave an experimental strum of the instrument, frowning at the out of turn chord and tuning the top piece slightly before trying again. Satisfied, he began strumming out a fast melody, stomping along on the floor in place of a drum.

"Dear fellow traveler

Underneath the moon

I saw you standing in the shadows and your eyes won't move,"

Geralt’s eyes widened, panicked and waiting for the familiar feeling to wash over him the same as it did in the bath; the way the beautiful voice had dragged him under.

He wasn’t sure if he was about to have to kill the creature he had been trying so hard to save but with each limerick he sang, it never came. Glancing around, he noticed that no one seemed to be affected by his song besides the occasional person flicking a coin at the man on stage or clapping along.

The entire tavern was enrapt, a young couple standing to dance in between the tables- the woman laughing gleefully and the man bearing a dumb smile as he stared at the woman.

Well, Geralt sighed, sitting back. At least no one was trying to drown themselves in their drinks or the nearest bucket. That was a good sign.

Once he finished his performance, Jaskier bowed, a similar grin on his own face as many of the patrons who cheered and a new light to his eyes that Geralt hadn't seen thus far, the dread and shadows under his eyes seemed to disappear entirely. 

He collected the coins that had been tossed to the ground and scurried back over to the table where Geralt sat, pushing all of the earnings in front of the witcher and his satchel back before plopping down on the opposite side of the table.

"As repayment," he offered, setting the newly acquired lute beside him.

"Why did no one-"

Jaskier jumped, cutting him off excitedly. His words came out in a single hurried breath, "Oh, I wasn't truly singing! I mean, I was singing but I wasn't putting anything into my words, I used to love performing, it's been a long time since I've been allowed to-" he suddenly stopped, his smile dropping some. "I didn't ask."

"You stole from me," Geralt mumbled over his cup.

Jaskier leaned back, excitement dissipating and that familiar worry setting in. "I'm sorry."

Geralt grunted. "Don't care what you do. Don't take my things."

Jaskier nodded hurriedly. "Are you mad?"

Another grunt. Though Geralt supposed, he wasn't sure that he was mad, more dumbfounded. He wasn't sure what to make of the creature and his antics and he definitely wasn't sure how to respond to him.

"It won't happen again, swear by it." Jaskier offered apologetically. "Since we have the lute now, we can take it to the next town and I can perform for more money though. I'll give you whatever I earn and-"

"Jaskier." It was Geralt's turn to cut him off. He picked out the coin he had spent on the bath and the one he had stolen before pushing the rest back to him. "You earned it yourself."

"Really?"

Geralt nodded.

"Mr. Aaberg always demanded the money I made for himself," Jaskier admitted quietly, stacking up the coins onto the table absentmindedly.

Aaberg, that was the name, Geralt finally recalled, thinking back to the man he had knocked out just the other night. "Is that what he used you for?"

Jaskier nodded, looking away. "Among other things."

Before Geralt could question it any more, the woman from the bar arrived with their food, setting it down in front of them and hurrying off to the next table.

Jaskier looked up in surprise at Geralt who ignored him, stuffing the eggs into his mouth to save himself from having to respond to whatever the creature was about to say.

Instead, all he offered was a quiet “Thank you,” before eating timidly, still waiting to be reprimanded but at least he seemed somewhat less scared.

The pair ate in silence, Geralt mostly just trying his best to ignore him for lack of ability to socialize properly.

Once they were both done, Geralt stood, gathering his things. Jaskier did the same, slinging the lute over his shoulder by the strap and following his lead out of the tavern.

“You need shoes,” Geralt stated. The brisk, cold morning even made him suppress a shiver. He grabbed onto Roach’s reins, leading the pretty beast after them as they made their way to the market downtown, not far from their current location.

“I never needed to have a pair before,” Jaskier mused. He kept his distance now that he was significantly more relaxed as opposed to this morning, walking closer to Roach than to Geralt. “But I did have a very beautiful coat at one point.”

A coat but no shoes. Geralt hummed, not commenting on the oddness of it.

“Want me to play a song as we walk?”   
“No.”

“I could-”

“No.”

Jaskier pouted and walked in silence for no longer than a minute before asking “What’s her name?”

Geralt looked over his shoulder, watching Jaskier rub on Roach’s cheek. 

She wasn’t usually as friendly as to let strangers touch her like that, but she leaned into the touch, velvet nose twitching as she sniffed at his outreached hand.

“Roach.”

“Roach,” Jaskier repeated, patting her nose. “What a pretty girl, who’s a pretty girl? Is that you?” He asked her in a baby voice.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Not a dog.”

“Still a pretty girl.”

Geralt ignored him, even though he felt Roach turn and tug on her reins, trying to get the creature to pet on her again when he stopped.

The market was a run-down place out in the middle of the town square. Clouds hung low over the sky, promising rain later in the day as people milled around, shifting from vendor to vendor that were set up around the clock tower that stood high in the middle of the mess. Some were smart enough to bring tents to protect their goods from the encroaching weather, others not so lucky, looking at the sky with dread and already packing up before the rain could spoil anything.

Geralt turned to Jaskier who was eyeing the crowd with fear.

“I’m going to go get supplies for the ride, you go get your stuff. Do you have enough coin with you?”

Jaskier reached into his pocket, feeling around at the coins before nodding, holding up the handful he had earned. “I think I do.”

“Good. I’ll meet you back right here when you’re done, alright?”

Jaskier nodded, looking back nervously at the crowd, absentmindedly stepping closer to Roach for comfort.

Geralt sighed. “Do you need me to come with you?”

“What?” Jaskier asked, dazed. “Oh, no, I’ll be alright.”

With a nod, Jaskier marched off into the chaos of the market, disappearing in the horde of people. 

Geralt mentally shrugged, heading into the other direction of the market. He needed to gather rations in case they didn’t find any game he could kill for the next few days. It wasn’t often, but occasionally towards the end of winter and start of spring in this region of the world, it was harder to hunt.

He stopped first at a stand to purchase the jerky and dried fruits. There was another with fresh fruit, not quite a luxury food but definitely a delicacy. He checked his coins, noting he had more than he thought he did and purchased an apple for Roach as a reward for her hard work.

He then came around to an old man selling bedrolls and travel supplies. He picked up one that looked thick and hardy, thinking of the creature who probably hadn’t thought about sleeping arrangements. It cost a pretty penny but still, he bought it, throwing it on the back of Roach next to his. Besides, once they made it to the next town, Jaskier would be on his own, it would undoubtedly help him to have something to sleep on until he did whatever it was he was going to do once he was free.

He didn’t stop too long to think about why he was doing so much for a stranger. Or at least he tried not to.

Geralt milled around a minute longer, refilling his canteen at the water fountain below the clock tower and people watching as he went through a mental checklist and assuring himself they were ready to travel, even checking his bag one more time. 

As he began to make his way back to the edge of the market to their original meeting point, he heard yelling and what sounded like a fight breaking out. 

As he thought, there was a tussle going on as he walked through, though he paid it no heed. Marketplaces were far too crowded for there not to be the occasional fight.

Geralt had made his way to their meeting spot turning around so he would see when Jaskier was heading that away when a distinct voice caught his heightened hearing, crying out in pain.

“Shit,” he growled, dropping Roach’s reins. He didn’t think, weaving back through the people and shoving his way into the middle of the ruckus.

The witcher looked around wildly, searching for Jaskier. 

A familiar fat man with a bruised, purple and puffy face was standing right in front of him. His could barely make his eyes out with all the swelling, but there was no doubt in his mind about who it was.

Lord Aaberg.

It looked as if he had brought a whole brigade of men with him as Geralt took a good look at the people behind them. Mostly young men, like they were ready to fight.

And there on the ground, three men had a Jaskier’s head pressed down into the dirt, one digging his knee into his back.

Jaskier tried to struggle, managing to wiggle his arm out from underneath him until a man grabbed it, twisting it back down onto his back too hard, making him whimper in pain.

“Fuck,” Geralt breathed. He knew hitting the man was going to come back to bite him in the ass and true to destiny there he stood. He should have just killed him when he had the chance.

Aaberg spotted him, shoving a finger in his direction with spite, “that man stole from me, he took my slave, someone grab him!”

No one close to him made a move, eyeing the Witcher with hesitation. At least his reputation preceded him in this situation.

“I’ll reward whoever does! 200!”

That was more than what he was promised to be paid when this entire ordeal started.

One young man seemed to ready himself at that, clenching his fist and bouncing back, lounging towards Geralt.

Within a second, a sword was pressed tight to the kid’s throat, a thin line of blood dripping down onto the shining blade.

Jaskier struggled, coughing blood into the dirt under his face and looking up at him. His right eye was already turning purple and black, blood dripping down his chin and staining his lips.

Geralt looked up at Aaberg, glaring daggers at him until he made the next move since they both seemed to be at a standstill like the market was frozen in time.

“Leave, witcher.” He spits. “Leave that thing here and carry on, you won’t have any more problems.”

On all the gods, it was a tempting thought. One less thing to deal with. He could move on easily, leave and never think about the incident again, never come to this town again even. It wasn’t as if he had any duty to take care of Jaskier. If he stayed, he’d be known for another slaughter as if Blaviken hadn’t been bad enough.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined, watching him with hopeless and defeated eyes. The man on his back dug his knee in harder at the name, making him cry out again. 

Those pleading blue eyes looked to Geralt again like he was his savior, a prayer dying on his lips. “Help me. Please.”

“Fuck!” Geralt growled, throwing out any thought of abandoning him. He knocked the man at the end of his sword down in the dirt with ease, swinging at the man on the creatures back, sword cutting deep into his soft neck. He pulls back, watching blood splatter all over Jaskiers already bloodied face. His sword drifted stabbing through the other man as well, both lifeless bodies trapping Jaskier underneath.

“Holy shit,” Jaskier yelped, desperately shoving at the bodies until he freed himself.

Geralt didn’t have time to help him up, one of Aaberg’s men drew his sword, attacking him with full strength. He barely had time to raise his sword in defense, the medal scrapping together and blades struggling in the air. With a final push, Geralt sliced upwards, flinging his sword from his hand and digging the blade into his chest. A final pull and he was done.

Without a moment to think, Jaskier leaped to his feet, sidestepping the puddles of blood that was creating mud in the dirt. 

At least he had shoes, he supposed.

“Get em!”

Geralt held out his sword in warning; a promise to the men who stepped out in front of him just as the ones before them that they would die the same fate. Only one was foolish enough to do so. Jaskier ran behind him quickly as Geralt fought the man off, running the thin blade down his chest to his groin, blood spilling as he fell to the ground with a cough of blood.

Grabbing Jaskier’s arm as he turned, he pulled him behind him, ignoring how the creature cried in pain at the touch. They’d deal with wounds later when an army of men wasn’t closing in on them. He took off in a sprint, calling for Roach and meeting her halfway. He jumped atop, still pulling Jaskier up behind him. The rest of Aaberg’s men were already mounting, running towards them as well, leaving no time to better situate themselves.

With a harsh kick to his mare’s side, the trio was off, hurling through the vendors in a full-on sprint, customers just barely jumping out of Roach’s path in time, tents falling behind them in ruin. The pursuers were close behind, loud, thundering hooves so fast they would most certainly catch them if it were any other horse.

Not Roach though.

Her breath was labored as she ran up the cobbled steps and behind the ominous clock tower that seemed foreboding in the grey sky but she never slowed. He’d like to think that she knew her life depended on it but he would never be sure. Each turn they had to make slowed them down more and more, giving the enemies behind them time to breathe down their neck, each turn of an alleyway Geralt prayed wouldn’t leave them cornered. Perhaps if he were alone, it would be easier to fight, but then again he wouldn’t be in this position had he been alone.

Jaskier clung tightly to him, uninjured arm wrapped around his chest and the other pressed between them, fingers buried in the fabric of his cloak like a lifeline. 

A wrong turn left Roach and Geralt scrambling for a way out, a broad black horse and man atop blocking their path.

Geralt did his best not to harm the horse, but with no other way out, he urged Roach forward, charging at the enemy in haste, swords clashing in the air with a shuddering sound. A formidable opponent. The man managed to leave a nasty gash on Geralt’s outstretched arm and another on his side as he drew back, lounging again before the witcher could get his bearings.

“I’m sorry,” the man spoke, tone sincere. “But I need that reward.”   
Soliloquise only work in plays. The second the man opened his mouth, he was done, a sword protruding from his gut. He looked up in surprise, but Geralt didn’t have time to stay and comfort the man until he found his way into death’s arms, the clatter of horses nearing closer with every passing moment.

As they reached the outskirts of the city, the dirt turned to mud as the horse ran through a farm. She jumped the fence with ease, startling the other horses nearby who bolted in the opposite direction. Vaguely he could hear a farmer protesting like a background noise.

There was a long pasture of grass making it easy for Roach to speed up, hoping the final fence and leaving the others in the dust as they entered the dense woods that stretched for miles. Trees shrouded out the sun almost completely, offering protection to the trio as they thundered through.

Geralt let up on the mare when they were obviously no longer being pursued anymore, slowing to a trot. It seemed as though they had stopped at the edge of the woods or had not seen them duck in.

There were no words spoken, nor was there time to rest fully. Silence hung thick in the air, broken only by the sounds of Roach breathing heavily and the floor she walked on.

With the silence came the realization that hit him like a ton of bricks. They were on the run now. There would be no going to the closest town, Aaberg would have already sent word ahead, maybe even a bounty on them. Geralt decided he couldn’t think about that now though, keeping his ears and eyes peeled for any signs of pursuit as they made their way through the dense brush.

It seemed like they had walked forever when jaskier made a sound. A broken, tired sob was breathed into Geralt’s shoulder as he laid his head down against his armor-clad shoulder.

No one had ever cried to him before, and certainly never on him. Unsure what to do with this show of emotion, Geralt pretended it was happening, letting him cry it out against him as they carried on.

Finally, his ears picked up the sound of running water. A babbling stream grew louder as they approached, offering the break that they so desperately needed. Geralt gently nudged Jaskier into sitting up and hopped off, offering him a hand.

Jaskier looked at it for a second before taking it with his uninjured arm, jumping down as well so Roach could have a break. Geralt led her to the stream, getting a drink himself and turning to the creature who cradled his hurt arm, cowering in on himself once again.

He looked like shit.

Bloodied, bruised and hurt.

“I’m sorry.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. He kept his head down again, not daring to look up.

“For what?”

“I… I got you into this mess,” he stuttered, sucking back a hiccup. “You’ve only been nice to me and I’ve only been a problem. I just want to go home,” he whimpered, looking lost.

It didn’t occur to him to ask until that moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he had asked for his mother, it might have been that last day that he had seen her that he had asked to go home. “How old are you?”

He didn’t know much about the family dynamics of these creatures like him but he did know that things like the two of them didn’t age as humans do. It may be too soon for him to be without his family.

“Huh?” Jaskier looked up, confused. “I don’t… I’m not sure. I don’t know what I am in human years.”

he choked out A sad laugh coated in tears. “It was only my first time being away from my mother when… she told me not to do it. I didn’t listen. That was a long time ago.”

So a young adult. Old enough to be on his own but not for long. No wonder he was still crying to go home.

The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. “I’ll get you home.”

Anything to get that damn look off of his face.

Did he hope that the creature would perk up? Was he expecting some kind of change in mood? Whatever he was expecting, he didn’t receive it. 

All Jaskier offered him was a defeated look of thanks.

“How are your healing abilities?” Geralt asked, changing the subject. He approached the creature, taking his face into his hands and turning it to look at his wounds. Nothing more than a black eye and a split lip, though the arm he kept clutched to his chest may be different.

“I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

“Good,” Geralt turned back to Roach who had stopped drinking. “We should go just in case. When we make camp we can fix our wounds.”

Jaskier nodded.

The future was more uncertain than ever before as they remounted Roach. All he knew was that it was time to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Twitter! @jellypanda00


	3. If I could repay you for coming to save me, I will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Geralt make a camp for the night and figure out what they need to do next, starting with finding something to eat and what to do about getting Jaskier home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who got that good ol flu. Chapter four will either be out extremely fast because I’m quarantined to my room or really slow because I feel like shit.

The stream, it turned out, flowed down into a coursing river. Geralt and Jaskier followed it till dusk until it was too late and they were too exhausted to continue.

Geralt dismounted first, helping Jaskier down again and taking off the horse’s tack, letting Roach go off to drink and graze to her leisure. She knew to come if he called and not to go far.

That rain the sky had promised had finally begun to pour not long ago as they made their way through the woods. The trees offered coverage from it though, allowing Geralt to get a fire going in a small clearing below them.

He was down on his knees, gathering firewood and piling it up when Jaskier approached him holding out his hand. “Want me to wash your shirt?”

Geralt looked up, noting that the creature’s own shirt was already off. He had a fair amount of bruises on his chest peeking out from the hair and he was sure more on his back but there was no blood on him that looked like his own at least. He looked emotionally exhausted, tear streaks mixing with the blood that had dried to his face and bruised eye. At least they were alive though.

Geralt nodded, quickly stripping out of his armor and cloak to hand Jaskier his shirt. There was a long slice in the sleeve from the blade and blood soaking so deep into most of it it looked as though it was meant to be red, nothing he couldn’t fix with some water and a needle and thread.

“Geralt!”

The Witcher looked up, startled and on the alert.

“You got stabbed,” Jaskier grabbed his arm, gently twisting it to look over the dried blood and long slash.

“I’ll… where’s your canteen? I’ll wash and dress it for you.”

It was odd, having someone fuss over him. He wasn’t exactly sure if he liked it or not. He was leaning more towards not when Jaskier spotted his bag and immediately began ruffling through it without permission.

He found the bag he had prepared when fighting filled with his potions and medical supplies so he didn’t have to stop at the healer constantly. He produced a long strip of gauze and antiseptic that he had stashed in there, watching him shrug in confusion and turning back to Geralt for confirmation. Geralt nodded back, assuring him he had the right supplies.

The witcher let him crouch down next to him, tenderly taking the injured arm into his lap and pouring the antiseptic onto it the best he could. His touch was soft and gentle as he wiped away the blood and bandaged it, a caring feeling Geralt hadn’t felt in a long time bubbling inside his chest. He squashed it down the best he could, feigning indifference.

Once he was sufficiently cleaned and wrapped, Jaskier sat back on his heels. “Good as new. I think. I’ll go wash this now.” Jaskier took the shirt and made his way down to the river.

The fire had just started to spark when Geralt heard the splash.

He quickly turned around, looking for Jaskier on the banks of the flowing water, current growing wilder with the rain.

“Jaskier!” Geralt called worry setting into his heart. Did he not know how to take care of himself at all? It would be just his luck that the creature he risked everything for would die after they made it out of the danger.

Walking over to the river, Geralt searched the currents desperately but nothing could be seen in the murky depths in the darkness.

“Fuck,” he struggled out of his boots, never taking his eyes off the water. 

He had barely gotten one off when a brown blob poked its way out of the water and blue eyes stared at him.

“The fuck are you doing?” Geralt griped, both relieved and furious to see him floating there so easily.

“What?” Jaskier popped up. “I’m washing our clothes and getting the blood off of me. It was all dried and gross-”

“The current is too fast.” Geralt snapped, “you could have…”

Oh.

Jaskier cracked a smile for the first time that night. “Drowned?”

Geralt hummed, grabbing his boot and striding back to their makeshift camp, cursing at himself internally.

It was hard to remember sometimes that Jaskier wasn’t human just by looking at him. He could pass easily as just a local bard, constantly needing help and attention save for his overly blue eyes and deadly voice.

Once the fire was going and their beds were set up, Jaskier returned, using a low hanging branch to hang their shirts on to dry.

“Where did this come from?” he asked, holding his hands over the fire and gesturing to the bed.

“Got it for you back at the market.”

Jaskier smiled lightly again, ringing out his hair. “Thank you, Geralt.”

Geralt ignored the smug and flirty tone that he used, changing the subject. “Let me wrap your arm.”

Jaskier complied, sitting down on Geralt’s bedding with him and holding his arm out willingly. “I think it’s just sprained. My face hurts just as much as my arm honestly.”

Geralt hummed, taking hold of his arm and looking it over. He could feel him wince when he touched too hard so he tried to be gentle the best he could be, using the rest of the gauze to wrap his wrist and arm tightly before making a makeshift sling out of it. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispered with a please smile, a gentle hand on Geralt’s wrist.

Before he could think about what that meant, Jaskier was standing, going back to his own bedroll and sliding into the warm blankets.

The silence was peaceful. The crackle of the fire, the gentle pattern of the rain. Trust in Jaskier to ruin it by bringing up things Geralt would rather not talk about.

“You could have left me.”

Geralt hummed, laying back and closing his eyes. “Thought about it.”

Jaskier seemed to accept that for what it was. “What made you change your mind then?” 

Geralt thought. What did make him change his mind? It was hard to describe. It felt as if he was connected to him somehow. Maybe it was the eyes, just as unnatural as his or it was the way he had said his name, looking to him for help or the fact that he was already this invested, why not keep going.

He couldn’t tell, but there was a bond between them already. And he knew Jaskier could feel it too.

Mostly because the damn thing was scooting closer every time Geralt looked away.

“What are you doing,” Geralt asked once he got an entire foot closer.

“… I’m cold,” Jaskier pouted.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You’re a fish.”

“Yeah, not a reptile. I’m freezing over here.” he scooted again. “I’m definitely mammal though, not a fish.”

“You’re awfully chatty.”

“Well, Jaskier flopped back down. “I’ve been kidnapped, beaten, used. Sold to you, had hope, lost hope and got beaten again. now we’re on the run and I think I’m going to freeze to death out here.”

Geralt hummed again for lack of a better response. 

“But you came back for me,” his voice was earnest. “And saved me. And didn’t leave me as you could have. Even made a promise to get me home. It’s not possible but it’s the sentiment that counts really, and I don’t know how to repay you.”

The comment seemed out of place, sticking out curiously in his words. He wanted to ask why it wouldn’t be possible when suddenly Jaskier scooched again, making an even greater jump than before, now so close Geralt could reach out and touch him if he wanted to, which was definitely not where he had sat the bedroll down.

“Stop.”

“Please. We shared a bed the other night.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “That was the other night.”

He heard the rustle of fabric once again. Not even having to look over at him, he knew Jaskier was still scooting closer and closer.

“Stop.” Geralt growled one final warning. He didn’t like whatever cuddly crap the creature was trying to pull.

Surprisingly though, and maybe a little disappointingly, Jaskier did stop.

When Geralt turned back over, the creature had his back to him, shivering slightly in his blankets.

He didn’t know what to say.

  
  
  


The morning sun was what woke Jaskier up, a hole in the trees letting it shine directly into his eyes. He stretched, back aching from the ground and the abuse it had withstood yesterday. He yawned, rolling over onto his stomach and stretching again to try and alleviate the pain and glancing over at Geralt.

The witcher was still asleep, hugging onto the blankets tightly and drooling softly. He was much nicer when he was asleep.

The fire had died out overnight but so had the rain at least with but few clouds in the cold wintery sky.

_Would he be alright if I went swimming again?_

If there was one thing he had learned, it was that he better ask before just doing it. And he wasn’t about to wake the man up just to do so.

The thought that the Witcher had helped him, nay, saved his life was indescribable. 

When he was younger he could remember his father telling him stories of Witcher’s like they were urban legends. He used it to make sure Jaskier behaved when he was just a pup- if he didn’t he would say he was going to throw him out of the water to the Witchers like they were just prowling around, waiting for them to surface. He cried horribly every time, running to his mother until he was a teenager.

When Aaberg has taken him to town today, he saw the flash of white hair, the golden eyes and talisman hanging from his neck.

The absolute fear he had felt when he was thrown at the Witcher’s feet was too much to bear. He didn’t move, didn’t dare to breathe in his presence. He thought back to what his mother had said when he was young, remembering it like it was yesterday. She had been braiding a piece of kelp into a play crown for him when he had asked about Witcher’s and if his dad was right. How she had stopped and looked at him, her words scaring him more than anything. “Don’t go outside of the beach, don’t talk to humans, and they won’t ever hurt you. They kill things like us, understand? They won’t care what you are or who, and especially not witchers.”

He wished he had heeded his mother’s words after her death.

He had stared at the ground, waiting for the finishing blow to come. For the man to rip the sword from his back and plunge it into him.

It never came though, in fact, it was Aaberg who got the worst of it. Geralt took him to an inn, let him bathe and talked about letting him go. They shared a bed and food, he didn’t even hurt him after the incident in the bath.

He never would have thought that a witcher would save his life, and from a human at that. The entire time he had spent with Geralt, however short, felt like a surreal fever dream. As if he was going to wake up any minute back in Aaberg’s possession.

Looking at the man who trusted him enough to sleep next to him, the creature made a vow in his head. He was going to repay the man for coming to save him however he could.

Geralt stirred, feeling the eyes on him. “Quit staring.”

Jaskier jumped, brought out of his own world quickly. “Sorry!”

Geralt hummed.

He didn’t like to talk too much. Over time Jaskier learned not to talk too much either, but maybe he could learn again to fill the silence. 

“So what’s the plan for today?” He asked hesitantly, offering a smile.

“Don’t know yet. I’m going to hunt. Save our rations for an emergency.” Geralt sat up groggily, taking in his surroundings.

Jaskier nodded. He could hunt too. If he hunted and Geralt both hunted they would have more than enough. 

The thought of food made his stomach rumble, thinking back to their breakfast near a full day ago.

Geralt rolled up his bed and Jaskier followed suit, stashing them in a small pile with Geralt’s bag. The man bent down, fishing something out of the bag and pulling out a bright red apple.

“Roach.”

Jaskier watched the pretty mare that was grazing not far away come trotting up at the name. Geralt stood, holding the fruit out and letting her take it with a happy crunch.

“I’m going to take Roach with me, it’ll be faster. Will you be alright here on your own?”

Jaskier nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll be alright, no worries.” _He could surprise him, show him he wasn’t as incompetent as it seemed._

Geralt hummed, grabbing his shirt from the branch from yesterday.

Gods the man was ripped, Jaskier thought, watching him put his shirt back on. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen someone so hot or even gotten laid.

_No! No no no_ , he shook himself. He wasn’t going to even try it not with Geralt. The man could be trusted not fucked. That wasn’t even an option, especially not when they were on the run.

_Priorities, Jaskier._

Geralt slid his shirt on, leaving the armor off and next to his mat. He resaddles and put the reins back on his horse before mounting her. With a final glance at Jaskier, he said, “shouldn’t take long” 

Jaskier nodded. “Be safe!”

Geralt only hummed again before he rode off, disappearing into the thicket.

No matter how much he trusted him, the second the witcher was gone it was like a breath of fresh air to his lungs. His shoulders relaxed, letting go off the tension he had carried for so long. 

_There was a real opportunity here_ , he thought. _I could run, follow the river and find a horse of my own, ride down to the coast and-_

He stopped his thoughts in their tracks. He wasn’t about to leave Geralt with no explanation and in a heap of trouble without an ally. Especially since it was his trouble to begin with.

Jaskier let out a sigh, wandering back to the river.

Aaberg had never let him swim no matter how much he begged for a chance. He probably knew he would run the second he let him go, which was fair, he supposed. You don’t go through all the trouble of kidnapping someone to use as a weapon just to let them go.

The sun was warm on his bare back once he broke through the canopy of trees, a relief from the chill of the wind that cut through his very core every time a gust of wind blew by. He slid out of his pants yet again, leaving them on shore and staring down at the water.

It was flowing, stronger than it looked and an ice-cold touch to it, much colder than the waters he grew up in but still so wonderful to be in.

He pulled the bandages off, sticking them down into the pocket of his pants and dove in.

The splash of cold sent a jolt up his spine, waking him up fully. His eyes adjusted quickly, body finding the rhythm of the current and letting it carry him further and further down. It hurt to swim with his arm but it was better than last night.

Some spots were too shallow, the rocks brushing his chest and stomach as he swam over them. Other spots he could dive deeper and deeper where the fish congregated below the surface, swimming against the tide.

Thankfully, even in human form, he kept his mother's ability to hold their breath for as long as a seal. He sat and waited in the deeper parts, watching the fish grow accustomed to him being there before he attacked, grabbing onto its slimy body, digging his fingers into it and carrying it up to the top, tossing it onto the river banks.

How many fish did they need?

Geralt looked like he could eat a lot and they’d need breakfast and lunch. And jaskier could certainly put down some fish.

Each time he dove down though, the more homesick he felt. The water where he was from was so much clearer, warmer. The tides were soft and salty like a rocking comfort and the deeper he went out the stronger they got to where he could ride them back into the safety of their cove and then out again. 

The opposite of these waters. He could still appreciate them still though. The rocks, for instance, were beautiful. River stones always were, some dark red and blues, others tan and rough greys, contrasting each other beautifully. The fish were alright. Nothing like the bright oranges and reds he had grown up with but the silver and iridescent ones were quite pretty. They’d taste just the same as well he was sure.

It was tempting to dig his teeth into one right then and there but he’d wait for Geralt.

Speaking of, how long had he been playing in the water? Too long more than likely. He swam down, grabbing a final fish and a pretty blue rock before swimming back up, tossing both on land. Only after he had done it did he think of why he did such a thing. It wasn’t like he had a place to keep it. With a pang of sadness in his heart, he jumped up onto the bank, grabbing the drock and dropping it back in, watching it sink down to the ground. Maybe someday he would have a place of his own again where he could keep silly things like pretty rocks.

He couldn’t count them all with them constantly flopping, but there was a healthy amount of fish laying on the ground around him, some gasping for breath and others still. He wished they were the jumping fish, the ones that would fly out of the water. They were the most fun to catch even though he had only done it once before.

Looking around camp, he noticed Geralt wasn’t back yet. Jaskier’s stomach rumbling hungrily but still he decided to wait.

He lay on his back, floating lazily and staring at the sky, spinning and splashing occasionally, grinning like a fool at the feeling of the water beneath him. Every now and then a new melody would come to mind, urging him to sing it out. With no one around, he let himself enjoy it, singing to the fish and the water with abandon.

“I’ve missed this,” he sighed to himself when he finished a song, turning back over. He caught a glimpse of himself, standing more to see. His eye looked bad, a dark circle around it. His hair was shaggy and wet, hanging down into his eyes. He’d need a haircut soon.

Finally after seemed like forever, he pulled himself out of the river to dry, gathering up all his fish and placing them in a pile next to the dead fire, sliding his pants on eventually.

And wait.

Waiting.

He wished that stupid man hadn’t broken the new lute that he had acquired. He could be playing and practicing with the instrument, but it had been stepped on and crushed at the market.

The sun was high in the sky when a terrible feeling of dread sunk down into his stomach when Geralt still wasn’t back. The armor sat innocently, not doing its job of protecting the man. Jaskier glared at it, thinking of all the horrible things that could have happened when finally he sat Roach’s head pop out of the woods, her silver-haired rider approaching with a serious look on his face. 

Jaskier perked up, smiling dopily at him. There wasn’t any game sitting on roach’s haunches as he had expected, but it was a relief just to see he was alright. 

Geralt’s face turned from sour to surprise as he looked down at Jaskier’s pile of fish.

“Didn’t catch anything?” Jaskier asked pleasantly, picking up one of the fish.

Geralt dismounted with a grumpy look on his face. “No.”

“Hmmm,” Jaskier copied his usual response, hiding a grin at the frustrated look that befell the witchers face.

Geralt sat next to him only to have a fish thrust into his hands immediately.

“What-“

“Eat,” Jaskier grinned, picking up his own and taking a bite from the underbelly, digging into its skin and slurping at the blood. It was good, almost as good as the ones back home. He chalked that up to the hunger gnawing at his stomach.

When he looked up again, Geralt was giving him a disgruntled look, nose turned up in a way the creature hadn’t seen him make before.

“What?” Jaskier mirrored, pulling back to munch on the meat.

Geralt shook his head silently, gathering up a few scattered sticks and using his magic to light a small fire.

Jaskier shrugged, wiping his chin and digging back in.

“So where is home?”

The creature paused, deep pain in his chest. “I don’t know what it's called on land. It had warm water though and Aaberg put me on a boat. Then we traveled for a long time.”

“The nearest warm water is at least two weeks of travel.” Geralt commented, spearing a fish and holding it over the fire.

“But I can't ever go home. To be honest, I don’t know what I’ll do now, I’m sure it’s gone.” Jaskier bit back tears. He hated how everything made him cry lately. Every experience he had seemed to make him tear up like a baby just thinking about. He remembered his mother saying though that crying meant he was letting go so he could heal, so maybe it meant he was ready to heal like she had said.

“What is?”

“…” Jaskier quickly took a bite of the fish, looking away. He should tell him. He kind of had to now that it was out of his mouth.

_Besides. Geralt was good. And he wasn’t human. At least not completely_. Maybe, just maybe, it would be alright to let out his secret that his parents taught him to hold close to him.

“My coat.”

Geralt furrowed his eyebrows, waiting for elaboration.

“My selkie coat.”

Geralt’s eyes lit up in understanding.

“It’s a long story,” Jaskier curled in on himself, holding the fish close. “You’re just going to think I’m stupid or something.”  
Geralt shrugged, turning his fish.

“You’re going to judge me.”  
“I didn’t say that,” Geralt looked back at him.

“So you won’t?”  
“I didn’t say that either.”   
Jaskier spit out a laugh. This man was something else. He took another bite of his fish, thinking of his next words carefully. “I was young. I wanted to go on land and see what humans were like. My mom was dead, my dad was gone, so I went. I had a good time for a while, each time the sunset I was in a new tavern. I had so much fun singing and playing and meeting people I stopped being careful. I didn’t see Aaberg following me one night.”

Jaskier choked, pushing past the lump in his throat. “I didn’t even get to the water when they jumped me and took it. And then I woke up on a boat and he told me he sold it.”

Geralt was quiet, pulling his fish off the fire.

“Please say something.”

Geralt shrugged. “It happened. We need to find your coat now.”

Jaskier relaxed.

“At least,” the Witcher sighed. “I know what we need to do now.”  
The creature tilted his head. “What?”

“We’ll deal with it after we eat.”

Jaskier accepted the answer, going back to his fish until it was nothing but bones. Geralt did the same, producing a knife and chowing down while another cooked.

With their bellies sated, Geralt went to work preserving the rest of the fish while Jaskier loved on Roach who had approached the camp again, cooing at how pretty she was.

“I need to do something for a minute, be quiet.”

Jaskier shut his mouth, looking over at Geralt. He had a delicate silver mirror in his hand and eyes closed as if he was willing all his energy into the device.

“What is it?”

“Quiet.”

Jaskier pouted. “You’re so mean sometimes.”

“Jaskier.”

“Okay,” Jaskier held his hands up.

“Oh good,” a woman’s voice spoke. “You figured out how to use it.”

Jaskier looked around wildly, trying to find where it was coming from. The only place he could come up with was the mirror. Was it enchanted?

“Hmm. I need your help. Portal to us.”

“The great Geralt of Rivia needs help?” The voice asked gleefully. “Us?”

“Yen.”

Jaskier watched fascinated at Geralt talking to himself in the mirror. The voice sighed and suddenly there was a loud whoosh next to him.

Jaskier wasn’t proud of the scream that left his lips but even Roach took off running, leaving him to fend for himself. He ran to Geralt, sliding onto his knees in the dirt and wrapped his hands around his strong shoulders.

Geralt batted him off only for Jaskier to cling back tenfold. The moving purple current ripped through the air like a mirror into a room and out came the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Her dress flowed like black water around her, hair to match and fascinatingly purple eyes stared at him. The purple whirlpool closed once she was through it with a snap.

“Hello Yennefer,” Geralt shoulder checked Jaskier off of him.

“Geralt,” she smiled. Her eyes turned to Jaskier who cowered down, clamming up under her scrutiny. “Who is he?”

Jaskier didn’t respond, tentatively grabbing ahold of Geralt’s shirt and distinctly aware of his lack of one.

“Jaskier. Jaskier, this is Yennefer of Vengerberg” Geralt spoke for him, seemingly making peace with the creature holding onto him for comfort.

She sniffed at the air. “What is he?”

Don’t tell her, jaskier pleaded in his mind, but Geralt has other plans. “Selkie and fossegrim. He lost his coat, I need you to track it for me.”

She curled his lip. “Why should I do that?”

“Because.”

She scoffed, striding forward and plopping herself down next to them. She circled her attention in on Jaskier, looking him over. “I’ve never met someone like you,” she purred, reaching out to touch him. 

Jaskier cringed away from her quickly. Lord Aaberg had a witch. She was just as bad. He could see the magic in her, flowing in her every move leaving no doubt about what she was. 

“Relax,” she sighed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out from behind the Witcher to get a better look.

“Stop,” he whined, the pain in his arm sending jolts up his bones. He hated the feeling of being grabbed and held down but he didn’t dare jerk away from her grip. It felt too familiar, too terrifying. “Please let go, I didn’t do anything-“

Geralt gave her a pointed look and she smiled like the cat who ate the canary, promptly dropped his arm, letting him fall back. 

Jaskier scooted away from both of them. Why was this woman here?

“Selkie. You’re stuck as a human aren’t you?” She asked. “Now that I think about it I have met another selkie before. She asked me to change her back without her coat.”

That caught his interest, asking timidly, “…did you?”

“Sure. For good. Now she’s an actual seal somewhere I guess.” She shrugged.

Jaskier sent a terrified look to Geralt. “I don’t want to be a seal forever.”

“We need to find his coat,” Geralt repeated.

“Alright alright. Give me a minute to work on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know how I feel about this chapter but tell me what you thought about it and come talk to me on Twitter @jellypanda00


	4. But Tonight, I’ll still Dream of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are developing and with the knowledge of where his coat is, Jaskier and Geralt embark on their journey to find it, leading them into the next town and more trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told y’all I’d get this done super quick because I was sick!! And I got part of chapter five done too lol

Jaskier wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t. But gods were they ever going to sleep?!

He turned, pulling his blankets over his ears, trying to block out the very obvious sex sounds coming from Yennefer’s tent that Geralt had disappeared into.

She had completed the spell towards the end of the day and set up a tent, saying they would find its location for sure in the morning.

_Of course, they weren’t just friends_ he thought, _how could they be?_ Yennefer was just as beautiful as Geralt, maybe even more. 

After the witch had plucked a tuft of hair from Jaskier’s head, threatened to turn him into a seal, mentioned killing him, and was rude to him the rest of the day, she invited Geralt into her tent and the two hadn’t been seen since. But oh, they could be heard.

Maybe, he supposed, he was a little jealous. Who wouldn’t be? Now though that the moon was high in the sky and he could feel the droopiness in his eyes, he was downright annoyed.

Jaskier’s ears picked up on a low grunt, much too low to be one of the witch’s noises and his face turned pink. Geralt. He pulled the blanket back, glancing in the direction of the tent. He could see from the candlelight inside that Yennefer was sitting on top of him, arm moving furiously between them. Geralt wasn’t a loud man, but it seemed he couldn’t help the noise spilling from him.

Suddenly, the sounds stopped. Jaskier sighed in relief, trying to ignore whatever he was feeling and relaxing back into his blanket eyes closing. But just as he managed to drift off to sleep, it started again with a loud, feminine moan.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jaskier growled, giving up. Was this his fate? Just listening to the two fuck into the wee hours of the morning and then wake up and do it again. 

With finality, he got up, giving up on going to sleep with them around and tugged his boots back on. They still felt odd on his feet, not something he would choose to wear often but they did keep him warmer. He grabbed a blanket from his bedroll as a makeshift coat and looked around for a place to go. Swimming didn’t sound as appealing as it did earlier, the water much too cold when his body was feeling hot.

He did have sexual feelings after all. It wasn’t as if he was immune to the sounds the two were making or seeing their forms illuminated in the candlelight through the thin fabric of the tent.

As he made his way into the forest, an idea occurred to him that he hadn’t thought of in a long, long time. Since before he had been captured even; offering the perfect solution to his sleepless, lonely night.

Looking around, the woods offered a certain amount of seclusion. 

At first, as he looked for a good spot, he was hesitant, unsure if he really wanted to do this, but the mix of elation and excitement was palpable when he found two trees pushed closely together that seemingly called his name. He felt like a teen again as he spread his blanket out under the trees, already feeling stiff in his pants when he fell to his spot.

The creature looked around, assuring himself that he was really alone as he slowly undid the strings holding his pants together, freeing his cock from the constraints.

Jaskier took a breath, closing his eyes thinking about how exposed he was, how anyone could come by and see him like this. It was a heady thought. Opening his eyes, he reached down, having to use his non-injured arm and making it feel all the more foreign to him. He wasn’t exceptionally big, but he had been told by quite a few that he knew how to use it. 

Jaskier spits into his hand, squeezing his cock tightly in a tight grip and picturing his favorite lover. 

He always came back to that pretty selkie he had first touched, her long brown hair and big breasts. He had a thing for long hair, it was wonderful to grab onto and hold, to pull their head back and bite at their necks. The way she had enjoyed riding him until the sunset on the horizon all the way until the next sunrise. His hand sped up, sliding up on his ever hardening cock and back down, pretending it was her again. 

Or the merman who would fuck him under the water until he ran out of air and tried to go back up only to be dragged back down again before he could get a full breath. He wasn’t ever trying to hurt him, it seemed like he knew how much it got him going to run out of breath- how much harder he came.

And oh the sailor he had met at the first tavern he had ever gone to, his ass had gripped him like a vice, pulling him into his warm heat while he begged for more. He had a deep voice, strong and muscular. 

White long hair…

Jaskier bit back a whine, his cock dripping and aching in his hands. He didn’t want to think about Geralt but it was so hard not to. The man was strong enough to pick him up and toss him around if he wanted to. He could almost feel it, Geralt slamming him into a wall, how those wide beefy hips would spread his legs open, how his big hands would feel against his neck…

He fucked into his hand harder, another hand sliding underneath his shirt to flick at his nipple, making himself gasp. If he shut his eyes it wasn’t just him panting in the woods alone, it was Geralt’s hands on him and not on Yennefer, it was him making him all the more hot and heavy, their breath turning to steam between the two of them instead.

“Ger…” he kept his voice soft just in case he could hear him, sliding precum over his head and freeing his other hand from his shirt to cup his balls, rolling and tugging making the fire in his loins roar.

Going so long with no sort of release didn’t equate endurance. Jaskier came with a moan, fucking his hand and thinking about the Witcher.

With cum dripping down his stomach and hips, he let out a sigh, head resting against the trees and staring up at the bright night sky. 

His hot breath turned into white clouds as he panted wildly, mind going faster than he could keep up with as he wondered what the hell he was doing thinking about Geralt like that. 

  
  
  


Yennefer’s purple eyes stared at him like she knew what he had done the next morning, though she never said for certain if she did. She just kept giving him a knowing look every time Geralt wasn’t paying attention and it was driving him mad. And when he looked at Geralt he only felt dirty and wrong and the witch seemed to notice that too, keenly away of it even.

Thankfully the spell was almost done the next morning. She finished grinding her ingredients and doing her incantations before breakfast was even over.

“It’s in Lan Exeter.” She concluded, sitting back on her heels away from what she had called the scrying bowl that continued to smoke.

“Lan Exeter.” Geralt repeated.

“Mmm,” she hummed, double-checking. “Yes. Tango.”

Geralt turned his attention back to Jaskier. “At least we know where you’re from,” he sighed.

Jaskier tilted his head, confused. The town sounded familiar but he couldn’t place it. “Where?”

“The great sea,” Yennefer said excitedly, standing and folding her arms. “The mad sea to be exact. It’s full of sea monsters.”

Jaskier winced. He may be a monster but only because Aaberg made him one. his parents weren’t, neither were his friends that he made growing up. There were monsters out there but not as many as she had implied.

“That’s two weeks worth of travel at least,” Geralt pondered.

“I could portal you-“

“No.” Geralt shut her down quickly, making her laugh lightly.

“Suit yourself. I have things to do today,” she reached down, dumping out the mixture into the grass and gathering her things. The tent folded up like nothing for her, fitting down into her satchel with ease.

Geralt went off to start packing Roach, offering only a lingering look to Yennefer as a goodbye. Jaskier couldn’t help but wonder what exactly their relationship was. They were friendly, had sex, but Geralt still seemed to have just dismissed her. It was weird, but he wasn’t about to pry.

Just as she had pulled open another portal, she stopped, turning back to Jaskier. “He’s good in bed you know.”

Why was she telling him that? Jaskier’s eyes widened, in panic, a stammering excuse already on his lips.

“I’m just saying,” she interrupted, giving him a smile. “Go for it,” She shrugged before stepping through the purple void, closing shut behind her without another word.

She was a weird, scary lady, Jaskier concluded. And he could go his entire life without seeing her again.

Yennefer definitely knew though. Jaskier blushed bright red at the knowledge, running to help Geralt who didn’t comment on his obvious embarrassment. He couldn’t tell if he knew too and he mostly just prayed that he didn’t while they loaded up.

“Where to now?” Jaskier asked, trying to make conversation.

“We need to go North so. North.”

Jaskier snickered, missing the smirk Geralt threw over his shoulder at the sound. “Okay. North.”

  
  
  


Two days later, the pair made it to the first town that they had come across since they started running. As the buildings and people slowly coming into focus with each step so did his fears.

Geralt seemed to notice when he glanced back and with a sigh, pulling his cloak off and blindly handing the dark black fabric back to him. “Wear it.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier accepted the item, slinging it over his shoulders. It engulfed his entire body, bunching in odd ruffles around his shoulders and elbows, the hood obscured his eyes and landing just before his nose began.

“Hmm. Stylish,” he gave Geralt a teasing grin even though he kept his back turned, obviously not amused.

“What, you don’t think so?”

Geralt hummed.

Jaskier sat quietly for a second, the trot of Roach’s hooves breaking the silence before “want me to sing a song?”

“No.”

“Could take your mind off of everything? Mine too.”

“No.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sighed, boldly resting his chin on Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt pushed him off with a grunt. “You need your own horse.”

“You don’t enjoy the closeness?” Jaskier teased. Truth be told he would prefer his own horse where long white hair wouldn’t blow into his face or he’d have to sit so close to someone he was developing… feelings? Lust? He couldn’t be sure but it was fun to rattle the Witcher’s bones some despite his agreement in the matter.

Geralt grunted again.

Maybe it was the relief that they knew where his coat was or maybe it was just that he felt safe with the Witcher, he couldn’t be sure. But as they rode into town, he didn’t feel like he was going to keel over any second like he normally did.

A lot of human towns looked the same he noted. Cobbled streets, shaggy looking houses and farms, taverns, and inns for the occasional stray. A market street, a brothel, horses, and chickens. The usual happenings not unlike any other small rural town.

“Do you still have your coins?” Geralt asked as they slowed to a stop just out of the way of the wagons traveling by.

“No, lost them in the fight.”

“Hmm. I’m sure there’s some monster or something that needs to be killed then.”

“Or…” Jaskier glanced at the market street, an idea already forming in his mind. “You go kill the monster or whatever and I’ll do what I can as well. Deal?”

Geralt shook his head. “Last time we split up,” he kept his voice low the closer when he noticed people passing by. “You nearly got killed.”

“But I didn’t,” Jaskier snickered. “Besides, it’ll be the fastest way to gain some coin. I’ll charm a lovely person out of their horse, you get your coin I’ll get mine and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I don’t need any money.” The yet went unspoken. “And what if you can’t get someone to give up their horse?”

“Then we will do it your way. I’m not totally helpless though.” Jaskier put a hand to his chest, acting offended.

“Fine.” Geralt got off the horse in a swoop, turning back to offer a hand up to Jaskier.

Jaskier ignored it, jumping down himself and slapping a high five into his open palm.

Geralt looked down at his hand and back at Jaskier. He almost missed the small snort that left the man’s lips when he turned around, already marching off.

Jaskier counted it as a win, smiling dopily. 

His arm felt noticeably better, so did his back and eye; all of his injuries healed or almost healed. He also saw that Geralt had his bandages off already. 

It wasn’t like their injuries healing was going to solve anything, but it did give him a sense of hope. It felt foolish to believe such a thing, but for once he had a friend in someone, they knew where his coat was, and he thought he might be alright.

He hurried in front of Geralt to lead the way, a whole new idea forming in his mind as he headed straight to the tavern instead of the market.

The Dirty Ducat, the sign read in bold, crooked letters. The dilapidated building didn’t discourage him if the sound of patrons were anything to go by. Instead of going in though, he snuck around to the back, pushing through the brush to where there were posts for horses.

There were three tied up together. Two males and one female by the looks of it. 

He shot Geralt a smile, approaching the female at the end. She looked fairly similar to Roach though her coat was so brown she appeared nearly black with a single, cute white sock on her front leg. She appeared underweight like she wasn’t being taken care of, sending a pang of understanding and pity through his heart. She was perfect for him, no doubt about it.

“This is your plan? Stealing?” Geralt asked incredulously.

“Hmm. Yeah, I think so. The other option is to stay here until we both gather enough money for a horse and all the gear that’s needed or, I sleep with someone enough that they give it to me. Besides, I like her.”

Geralt shook his head, adjusting the band holding the wild locks out of his face. “It’s not right to steal a man’s horse.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” Jaskier shrugged. “Besides Geralt, look at her. You can see her ribs.”

“… I’m not going to tell you no if that’s what you’re waiting for.” Geralt shrugged, though he did pat Roach gently on the cheek, looking her over for the same signs of neglect like the Jaskier wouldn’t notice.

That wasn’t the case with Roach. Geralt liked to pretend to be hard and uncaring, but Jaskier remembered the first time they had met, how he had taken the time to care for his mare before dealing with him. He loved that horse.

“I’ll take better care of you,” Jaskier murmured to the horse, approaching slowly and holding his hand out. She sniffed at him, making a soft snorting sound when she was finished investigating. Her nose immediately nudged into his outreached palm, velvety soft and sweet. “Such a good girl!”

As a common courtesy and a small apology for stealing whoever’s horse this was, he unclipped the baggage, leaving it down next to the post he untied her from before mounting.

It felt much different from Roach but not bad. He attributed it to the cheap saddle that sat upon her back that would no doubt leave him feeling much sorer than Geralt’s nicer one by the end of the day and how much shorter she was than Roach who towered above everyone like a giant.

“Okay, next let's go to the market while we’re here. I’m still wearing your shirt.” Jaskier suggested, running his fingers through the parts of the mare’s mane that weren’t matted. He’d use Roach’s brush on her later when they stop for the day.

Geralt nodded, mounting Roach as well and leading the way down to the market.

“What should I rename you, huh?” He asked the horse as she would reply. “What about Buttercup?”

Geralt snorted. “Are you 12?”

“And if I am?” Jaskier asked, urging her to catch up to Roach. “Besides, it’s a beautiful name for a beautiful horse, isn’t it?” He patted her neck.

The pair were gaining quite the stare the closer they got to people. He heard someone yell Witcher once or twice and whispers of the words wolf and butcher but he kept his head down and as close to Geralt as he could. It had been fun to joke and goof earlier when there was but only one or two people milling around but now the danger was very real. They weren’t really that far away from the town that Aaberg was in and there was a very real chance that they’d be recognized.

Anxiety pierced his gut, twisting into something ugly and cruel inside him that made him want to run away. Still, they carried on.

“You should go get your shirt mended,” Jaskier said quietly, noticing the tailor just up the road.

“Jaskier. Remember the last time we split up in a market?” Geralt asked again, looking at him like was an idiot.

“We’d save a lot of time,” Jaskier justified his idea. “You go to a tailor and I’ll get a shirt and skim whatever else we need.”

Geralt just stared at him with those intense, gold eyes.

“I’m serious, we’ll be fine!”

“That’s a stupid idea.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier stopped, forcing Roach to stop too. “I just stole a man’s horse and we could be recognized at any point. Best to get on with it, yeah?”

The Witcher grunted. “Still a stupid idea.”

After admitted his stupidity in letting Aaberg get the drop on him with his coat, then again in the market, he was desperate to prove he wasn’t completely incompetent to the man.

Thankfully he didn’t put up many other objections, finally making peace with the practicality of the plan. “Meet back here.”

“Yes, sir,” Jaskier saluted him to which he rolled his eyes, urging Roach in the other direction to the tailor.

Once Geralt was a good few feet away from him, Jaskier faced the market, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I don’t know why I did that,” he admitted, looking down at Buttercup as they trotted down the street. “It’s less crowded, that’s for sure but... there are so many people. At least I have you now don’t I?”

The first stop was a woman who had more than a fair share of tunics on display, much cheaper than what he would get at an actual tailor. She wasn’t overly pretty, not on Yennefer’s level for sure, but she had a unique smile and nice eyes and a certain allure to her. Maybe he wouldn’t have to steal afterall from the way she was making eyes at him.

He got down off Buttercup, approaching to look over the tunics. “Did you make these?”

“Yessir,” she nodded. “Me and my mother. Do you know your size?”

“Not sure, can I try some on?” He asked, giving her the look that seemed to work on everyone but the Witcher. A rosy tint to her cheeks and she nodded again, looking him up and down and handing him a blue tunic, the sleeves slightly puffed with a small design of gold thread down the front.

“It brings out your eyes,” she commented.

He gave her a charming grin, slipping it on over his borrowed shirt. It was comfortable and glancing in the mirror, he found he quite liked it. It was bold but not ridiculous, at least not in his opinion.

“What do you think?” he asked her, flirtatiously, striking a pose.

“It suits you.”

He looked her up and down, slow and meticulous so she knew what he was thinking. “You know… I don’t have much coin with me.”

“Hmm, and how do you intend to pay then?” she asked, leaning over her table, giving in to his game.

A few minutes later with slick drying on his chin and a musky taste on his tongue, he exited the ally, looking around before pulling her out after him, a dazed look still capturing her features and her dress rumpled oddly.

“Thank you, my dear,” he smiled, pulling her in for a final kiss.

“Don’t… don’t tell anyone-“

“I would never,” he dramatically laid a hand on his chest. “You can trust me wholeheartedly.”

With that he turned, making his way down the row to escape the busy street lined with vendors, leading Buttercup behind him. As he passed a crowded, junky looking area, a spot of wood caught his eye in the pile.

It was perhaps the most beautiful instrument he had ever laid eyes on. The rich brown was just the right shade to compliment the gold detail and silver strings like a piece of art. Delicate Golden dandelions were painted around the circular hole in the middle seemingly calling his name like a siren in the night. The strap on it would be perfect for riding, something he could easily toss over his shoulder and just as beautiful with the leathers and gold details snaking up like vines.

The vendor, a tall, mean looking man was battering with another over some goods and Jaskier took the opportunity, making his way over to the table and pretending to have trouble mounting so he could bend down, snatching the instrument when no one was looking and urging Buttercup on quickly.

“Hey!” The vendor shouted, noticing the suspicious action but it was much too late, Jaskier was already halfway down the street, ducking down an alley behind a row of houses.

“Oh shit,” he panted in excitement, slowing to a stop in the dark alley- not unlike the one he was previously down with the girl.

Looking over the treasure, he couldn’t help but whisper the charm into it, breathing deeply as the words that were closer to sounds- left his lips.

He hadn’t done it before but once for Aaberg, but his father had taught him how when he was young. To bring an instrument to life was a great responsibility. It wasn’t something he had ever wanted to do for the man, a knife to his throat and blood dripping from his mouth as he spoke, just the same as each time he was forced to drown someone for the man.

He was turned into a monster by the man. His voice used for things far too cruel and his instrument turned into something deadly.

Now though, it felt like he was taking back the power he had been forced to give up to him. The lute glowed for a moment as it connected itself to Jaskiers lungs as if to breathe with him before resting.

A simple strum of a chord seemed to breathe a fresh bit of life into the street. He couldn’t wait to play a full song on it and hear how it would meld with his voice.

Once him and Buttercup made it back to their meeting spot, he strummed a bit more, fine tuning the beauty, the tune that spilled from it just as elated as he was, the instrument capturing all of his attention.

“Hey!”

The voice made him jump though he didn’t turn around, too enthused with the new lure. Besides, the voice very obviously wasn’t Geralt. It probably didn’t concern him anyways.

“Hey! That’s my horse!”

Or maybe it did.

Jaskier slung the lute over his shoulder by the strap just in time to turn around to see a bow and arrow pointed right at him.

“Fuck.”

The man was obviously drunk and unfocused, unsteady on his feet and trying to focus; wielding a dangerous weapon and making the situation all the worse.

Jaskier ducked, the arrow whizzing past his ear and barely missing him dead on, the wind from the arrow lifting his hair as it went by.

“Listen, sir, there’s a misunderstanding! This is… this is my horse! Her name is Buttercup!” He dismounted, distancing himself from the animal quickly. She made no move to go to her old owner, solidifying his thoughts that she really had been mistreated.

The man watched him wearily, seeming to hear him out.

“I’m… I’m a bard, you see,” he held up the lute as an explanation. “I can play you something if you’d like. To prove it! I came into town with a Witcher, he’s off slaying a monster as we speak.”

“A witcher is here?” The man scoffed.

“Yes! Geralt…” fuck what was his name.

“Geralt of Rivia?”

“Yes, that’s it! That’s him,” Jaskier nodded enthusiastically. “I’m working on a song for him actually.”

The man lowered the bow. “That really isn’t my horse?”

Jaskier shook his head. “Nope, has her since I was a young one.”

The man studied the horse more closely, narrowing his eyes and trying to focus his way past the alcohol. “No,” he said, raising the bow again. “That’s my damn saddle!”

Jaskier made up his mind, a sick feeling curling in his stomach. It wasn’t something he ever wanted to do again, but he didn’t see many other options at the moment.

He strummed over his enchanted lute, the sounds of forests, winds, and waters drifting out of the instrument with such lyrical beauty. He focused all his energy into the song, watching the man’s eyes go hazy and lost. He hummed along, power dripping from his throat.

The man was completely under his control. He could have him walk over the the water trough not far from here and drown if he wanted. He could make his ears bleed and whatever over the terrible thing he could manage.

Thankfully, a head of white hair was exiting the shop at just the right time, making his way with his horse down to where Jaskier was. He took a quizzical look between the creature and the man, coming too close to be safe. It was too late though, Geralt stopped and stood just as hypnotized as the man.

Jaskier backed up, not releasing the stranger until he was within distance of Buttercup. 

“Geralt! Geralt it’s time to go!” He shouted, wishing the haze in Geralt’s eyes would dissipate already and he would come to his senses. Once he did, he jumped on his own horse, swearing and kicking her sides with his heel into a full on sprint, Jaskier hot on his heels.

A few arrows sped past them, none that were close to hitting them but it urged them on faster still.

  
  
  


Not many words were spoken between them as they rode on the rest of the way and to the safety of the open road. It wasn’t until they made camp for the night and Jaskier was brushing Buttercup and cleaning her up while Geralt started a fire.

“What was that?”

“Hmm?” Jaskier asked over his shoulder. “I didn’t say anything.”

“At the market, creature.” He snapped with his voice hard. “With the lute. That wasn’t your voice.”

“Oh.” he stopped.

Was Geralt mad at him? Probably, he did hypnotize him earlier.

“… I enchanted the lute. I didn’t want to ever do it again after Aaberg but it felt like I was… I don’t know, reclaiming my power or something… dumb like that. You know.”

Geralt’s features softened, the minute differences in his facial features something Jaskier could pick up on now. “He made you?”

Jaskier nodded.

“Because you can control people with it. He used you,” Geralt came to the conclusion. “He made you kill people.”

Jaskier nodded again, throat tight with emotion. “They were bad people. Just bad people killing bad people, he never had me hurt anyone who-” he stopped himself. “He said they deserved it. But it was easier to kill them do it with a lute and my voice.”

A slow unwanted tear slid down his cheek, remembering their faces as he killed them. “I’m a monster. If I would have just let him kill me instead of working for him they would still be alive. I was scared though.”

Silence clung heavy between them, Jaskier forcing himself to speak up again, staring at the innocuous lute that sat next to the fire on his bedding. “I’ll get rid of it if you want. It’s not meant to be evil, it’s meant for it’s meant to spread joy and sound good with my songs but now that you know it’s a weapon too I understand-“

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed, dropping the hard tone completely. “I don’t care what you do. Don’t take my things and don’t kill anyone.” He narrowed his eyes, think about his words. “Unless they try to kill you.”

Jaskier let out a sigh of relief, relaxing against Buttercup who took an anxious step, ready to go graze with Roach. He wasn’t relieved at the idea of keeping the lute but more at the knowledge that Geralt really did trust him. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought and come talk to me on Twitter! @jellypanda00


	5. On my Chest, On my Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier, unwilling to travel anymore, demands to stop for the day at a lake where light is shed on the feelings shared between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is low key based on Goose Lake in New Mexico, literally, it's so pretty there. I don't know why it came to mind to write into the story but here we are. Also, remember how I said it would be a slow burn? Yeah sorry I have no control lmao

That night, Geralt woke to the sound of a sob in the darkness.

The fire was still low dying embers, crackling occasionally in the night air and offering the dimmest of light around the camp that they had set up. 

Looking around, their horses were nearby, Jaskier’s new horse still grazing while Roach slept. He looked over at the bedroll that was far too close to his own, Jaskier having been the one to roll the mats out.

The creature was curled in on himself, whimpering in terror and eyes squeezed shut tight, tears rolling down his cheek. Even his hands were clenched around the blankets, sweat matting his hair down to his forehead.

Geralt was no stranger to nightmares. “Jaskier.”

“Jaskier.”

The creature flinched each time, hiding deeper into his blankets. One of the things he had learned about him over the past few days together was that Jaskier could sleep through an avalanche if one happened to fall on him.

Geralt grumbled, ready to drop it and go back to sleep when he heard another whine.

“Ger…”

Was he dreaming about him?

“Geralt!” He mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow. Whatever he did say after that broke off into a soul wrecking sob enough to send a pain of sympathy into the witcher’s heart.

With a sigh of exasperation, Geralt reached out, grabbing hold of the blankets and dragging the mat closer to him until he could get ahold of the creature, wrapping an arm around his chest and drawing him close.

The touch seemed to quell whatever terror he was experiencing. His tears dried after a moment, snuggling closer against his chest until a light snore emitted from the creature, drool leaking against Geralt’s arm that was now a pillow.

The Witcher didn’t hate the cuddling admittedly but told himself he only did it to make him quit talking in his sleep so he could get some rest and left it at that.

  
  
  


Except it happened again the next night. And the night after that, each time Geralt giving in, dragging the man up against his chest to sleep, separated only by the blankets. Jaskier never spoke of it, even if he woke up first, playing along with Geralt and ignoring the new intimacy at night.

They had been traveling together for nearly a week now and Geralt still didn’t know what to make of the man. He was loud, annoying, constantly poking at his buttons or singing, sometimes not even trying to make it sound good. And then all of a sudden he’s quiet and thoughtful, worried. He’d look to Geralt for protection and then abruptly have the confidence of a king. He was so obnoxious it turned into something close to endearing and he was beyond handsome even when he was drooling and his mussed hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and dirt. 

He made absolutely no sense. And it made even less sense that Geralt  _ liked  _ him.

Though, he didn’t much care for him at that very moment.

The man rode behind him, strumming lazily on that damned lute and complaining that his ass was sore from riding for so long. It hadn’t even been a full day. He had been riding horses like this all his life, but Geralt knew damn well the creature was complaining just to complain.

“Gerallltt…” he whined loudly, strumming suddenly stopping. “Let’s take a break.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, giving Roach a pat. If Jaskier was to make all that noise while riding on her, she’d undoubtedly knock him off in an instant- it was a wonder Buttercup hadn’t done so. “If we took a break every time you said wanted to take a break, we’d never get anywhere.”

“You’re grouchy today,” he commented. “Do you need a nap?”

Geralt wasn’t about to dignify that with a response.

Jaskier sighed dramatically but dropped the subject, riding along in blessed silence.

They had made it out of the woods a day or so ago, now working through a barren area that was mostly dirt with the promise of more trees and mountains if they could just get out of this small, dusty area.

Jaskier hummed out a tune, lamenting his woes of soreness and endless travel which, as annoying as it was, was better than trying to make conversation with the Witcher about stopping.

Until he spotted the lake.

“Let’s go swimming!”

Geralt hummed.

“We need baths anyways right? It’s been days Geralt let’s take a break, have a little fun.”

It was Geralt’s turn to sigh. The creature loved the water. If they passed this up he would be even more annoying than he already was.

“Fine.”

“Oh?” Jaskier stopped Buttercup abruptly, an obnoxious hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that. Did you just say yes?”

“Yes.” Geralt grunted, urging Roach in the direction of the path. The lake was down in a bowl-like structure, a barely worn down path leading down the incline to the water.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes!” Jaskier grinned, catching up to him quickly so they could walk beside each other going down. “Shall I write you a song in thanks?”

Geralt glared at him but instead of intimidating, it only made him snort out a laugh, his blue eyes crinkled tightly from his dimples. 

The Witcher quickly looked away before he could think too long about what that made him feel.

The walk down wasn’t a long one, though it would be hell to climb out of he was sure. As soon as they got on even ground, Jaskier was hopping off of Buttercup with haste stripping right on the banks, discarding his clothes in a pile.

They had seen each other naked enough times now that Geralt had learned not to stare like he had the first time they had met back in the inn, but with his back turned to the witcher, he allowed himself a glance.

His ribs didn’t show as much anymore, no bruises on his skin from abuse at the hands of others, only ones from his own stupidity. Like when he tried to pick a flower while sitting on top of his horse or from walking too close under trees. His back was only blemished by the occasional freckles and moles that made his perfect body a little more imperfect and somehow all the more perfect and beautiful at the same time.

And that smile. Geralt never would have thought that the terrified creature he had first met would be laughing and teasing him so carelessly. Hell, he had figured he’d still be trying to unlearn the whole sir master bullshit that he was on those first two days. But just earlier this morning he tried to give Geralt a nickname, and even though he had shut him down on it, it was a relief in hindsight not to still be fighting through all the fear.

There were times, of course, he did have to fight through it. Time would help, but the other day when Geralt had grabbed his arm to stop him from messing with his hair, Jaskier had cringed and stopped immediately without the usual whining flare he had gained. Or when he put a little too much magic into his strumming, leaving Geralt in a haze until he realized it and stopped. He wasn’t even that mad, the creature was still young and learning how to control it and he understood that to a certain point, but Jaskier would pout and refuse to play the rest of the day if he overdoes it.

A loud splash drew him out of his thoughts, Jaskier nowhere to be found once again in the serene area.

Geralt almost breathed a sigh of relief at the blessed silence when he popped back up, excitedly talking about how pretty the rocks were underneath the murky green waters.

The lake itself was an aesthetic sight, like a small portion of a haven in the dirt, flat area that surrounded it above. The water was surrounded by tall pines that reached to the heavens and yellow-green grass below them. Brush lined the edges of the shore, filled with red and yellow flowers of some kind that stopped just short of the stones that filled the bottom of the lake. And out in the distance, a tall, overbearing mountain set the background with climbing hills of dark green with trees and grass scattered over it.

The landscape was beautiful- awe-inspiring. Geralt sat back, using his bag as a headrest and stretched out in the soft grass, admiring the nature while Jaskier played and hoping he’d get his energy out so Geralt could get in and bathe without being bothered.

Jaskier did leave him alone for a moment, exploring the lake and occasionally tossing a fish out for dinner later that night. The constant rotation of fish, rabbit, and deer were starting to get monotonous, but there wasn’t much option as their rations were nearly gone. He came up for air only once or twice before going back down for long periods of time again.

_ Maybe he was right, _ Geralt relaxed back against the grass. He could use a nap. The sun was warm and no cold air was blowing down into the crater, relaxing and kind. His eyes drifted closed, breathing in the clean air, so different from big cities like Nilfgard or Centra. 

He didn’t know what he was going to do when he had to go back to places like that when Jaskier got his coat back. The insistent talking was growing on him as was the nature they saw when avoiding the main towns.

Geralt was dragged out of his thoughts once again when a splash of cold water hit him right in the face.

“Come swim!” Jaskier demanded, arms raised in warning that another splash was coming if he did not concede.

“I’ll come to bathe when you’re don’t acting like a fool,” Geralt grumbled, wiping his face off angrily.

“Pussy.”

Geralt stopped, sitting up to look at him. Did the creature really just call him that?

There was a mischievous look to his expression as he sank lower into the water, nothing but eyes, ears, and a mop of brown hair peeking out from the water before a giant splash landed on the banks again, washing over the witcher.

“Are you trying to make me angry?” he growled, sitting up completely and giving up on the calm nap he had almost been willing to take.

Jaskier shook his head, sending water flying from his locks. “No, I’m trying to get you to come swim. Have fun for once, Geralt, wipe that grumpy look off your face for a while. 

He wasn’t truly angry until the third splash to which he stood, shrugging out of his clothes completely and jumping in much to Jaskier’s cheering. 

The rocks were rough though the lake dropped out quickly as Geralt swam out. An idea came to mind as he ducked under the water, every intention set on drowning the man. Just as he got close though, glowing blues to met him quizzically, mirth curling on his lips.

Realizing he wasn’t going to be able to fulfill his plan, he gave up, going back to the surface.

“Were you about to pull me under?” Jaskier sputtered indignantly, a sneer turning his nose up cutely.

“Yes.” Geralt admitted, knowing better than to lie.

Jaskier looked puzzled for a second as they floated there. “You know, I can’t breathe underwater but I could definitely outlast you.”

Geralt smirked. He had the abilities of a witcher and complete confidence in himself. He had battled plenty of sea creatures in his long life. “You couldn’t.”

“Oh!” Jaskier yelled, playfully offended. “That’s a challenge.”

“Wha-“ Jaskier dove down into the water and before Geralt could get away, he took a gulping breath as he was pulled down into the water again by his hands wrapping around his arm.

The Witcher opened his eyes under the water, raising an eyebrow at the creature who was laughing, bubbles spilling from his lips.

“Your hair is so long it touches the surface,” he commented, reaching out to pull a piece down and let it float back up. Geralt would have stopped him usually, he had a strange fascination with his long white hair but he was too busy thinking about how he had spoke so clearly under the water.

It was a strange sound- completely different from how his voice sounds on the surface, deeper and harder to understand though his words could still be made out.

“Oh! You can’t talk.”

Geralt shook his head.

The two sat there for a long time, waiting to see who would go to the surface first and studying each other under the water. 

Jaskier made a face at him and under the cover of the water, Geralt made one back, sticking his tongue out at him that made the creature laugh so hard his was obscured by bubbles.

What was he doing?

They should be on the road right now, not playing like children. The sooner they found his coat the sooner he could go back to his normal life of nomadic monster slaying. 

But, as he stared at Jaskier, it became harder and harder to want to go back to that life. When was the last time he let himself enjoy life, to make faces at people and play in lakes? 

Would it really be so bad to do this forever? He enjoyed the antics of the creature as much as it annoyed him. They could travel together just as they were now-

Geralt stopped himself. Jaskier wanted to go home, not spend his entire life miserable like him. They both had enough misery for a lifetime.

Pretending he couldn’t feel, being hated in every town he went to. It wasn’t a nice lifestyle that many were cut out for. Jaskier deserved to be where he belongs, not following Geralt’s selfish desires to never leave him.

Lungs tight- weather with emotion or lack of air he couldn’t be sure- Geralt gave up, rising to the surface, Jaskier close behind.

“Ha!” He yelled when they broke the surface. “I knew you couldn’t last that long!”

Geralt rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile.

Jaskier, pleased with himself, laid back on his back, floating before disappearing back under the water again.

He couldn’t live like this forever, he knew that. But maybe he could see the appeal in just swimming for a while at least. The crater in the shadow of the mountain gave off a sense of security he hadn’t felt in many, many years. If ever.

Jaskier continued to show off, stopping Geralt from moping by going deep under the water and launching himself at the witcher who promptly blocked him, sliding back into the water to try again. It became a game, Jaskier trying to attack and Geralt blocking each attempt. It was fun, he had never sparred in such a way and not ever with someone who had abilities not far from his own. Jaskier wasn’t as physically strong, but he was good at strategy. He was lithe and fast in the water- much faster than any human or even Geralt. Still, he managed to block him each time until he dropped his guard for a mere second.

Arms wrapped around his neck, the creature’s chest pressed against his back. “Gotcha!”

Geralt resigned in defeat, expecting him to let go. Instead, he relaxed his grip but didn’t sink back into the lake as expected.

Geralt turned to see what was wrong when lips crashed against his.

Jaskier’s eyes were closed, scrunched as if he was expecting the worst but once Geralt realized what was happening, he couldn’t bring himself to push him away, drawing him in deeper, arms wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. 

When they finally broke apart, Jaskier looked at him with a mix of worry and surprise.

“I… I’m sorry,” he whispered against his lips, hot breath warming his cool skin.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier’s lips quirked for a second. “Now isn’t really the time for not using words.”

“What do you want me to say?” Geralt asked, still not letting go of the hold on his waist.

He was selfish. He wanted him to not apologize and kiss him again. 

He had never felt like this with any man. He had never felt like this at all save for Yennefer but that ship had long since sailed.

“That you aren’t mad at me mostly,” Jaskier looked anywhere but at Geralt. “We can pretend it didn’t happen if you want and-“

Geralt decided he could be selfish just this once, cutting off his insistent blabbering with a chaste kiss.

“Oh.” Jaskier breathed, understandingly.

“Hmm.”

Geralt was now keenly aware of how naked they were in the water now that they were pressed up against each other and if the blush on his cheeks was anything to go by, so was Jaskier who looking like he was about to say something.

With the guard of the creature down, Geralt suddenly grabbed his shoulders, pushing him under the water, dunking him.

His face, when he rose back up, was flabbergasted, stealing a small chuckle out of Geralt. The sound turned the open mouth gape into a soft smile.

“That was rude.”

Geralt just hummed again.

  
  
  


The fire crackled lazily, casting a smoldering glow on their skin and a strange, unsure feeling hanging between them. 

It had taken forever to convince him to get out of the damn lake and even longer to get back on the horse. At least he had stopped complaining so much, instead choosing to give Geralt love-struck stares the rest of the day.

Geralt took the time to glance at his map, tracking their location. They had traveled a good distance save for today. “We’re halfway to Lan Exeter.”

“Really?” Jaskier stopped whatever it was that he was doing and looking to Geralt with hope across his features. 

“It’ll be another week or so of travel but.”

“That’s…” Jaskier trailed off before the brightest smile spread across his face, like the sun itself had pushed the moon aside and was using Jaskier as a conduit. “That’s great.”

“Mmm.”

The silence continued, so thick it could be cut with a knife. Jaskier poked at the fire for a while, not sure what do with himself when the witcher laid back against his bedroll, ready for some sleep.

Finally, he seemed to make up his mind though and stood, walking over to the Witcher who was resting against his bedroll. Geralt sat up on his elbows just in time for the creature to plop himself down, straddling his hips and grinding his ass down against his crotch with an innocent look in his eyes like he didn’t know what he was doing.

“I like you a lot,” he spoke, pretty voice low and sweet. “I’ve thought about you,” he ran his hands up Geralt’s shirt, freeing it from the tucked-in confines of his pants and raising it up around his arms. His tone told exactly what it was he was talking about before his words said it. “I couldn’t help it when I was touching myself.”

“I know.”

He froze, any ruse of lust leaving his face with embarrassment to take its place, eyes wide. 

“You know.” He stated dumbly.

Geralt chuckled, undoing the lace of Jaskier’s pants. “Next time you don’t want anyone to know you’re touching yourself, don’t do it around a witcher.”

Jaskier hastily covered his face in his palms, not stopping Geralt but not keeping up the seductive act anymore. “How? Yennefer knew too!”

Did Yen know? It was news to him but he could take a gander as to how she figured it out too. “I could hear you, you weren’t very far away. As for Yen, I’m sure she noticed me listening.”

Jaskier peaked out from behind his hands, rubbing his face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you didn’t,” he stated, pulling the creature’s shirt off to expose his hairy chest.

“I shouldn’t have done it, I’m sorry,” Jaskier laughed nervously. “It was wrong.”

“Hmm. Maybe,” Geralt sat up, pulling the nervous thing into a kiss. His shoulders relaxed, dropping his hands from his overheated cheeks. “I liked it though. I want to see it sometime.”

Every time he slept with someone, something went wrong. Yen hated him more than she tolerated him, Renfri was dead, just about everyone else got him in some kind of new trouble. He knew this and still, it was too tempting not to fall into Jaskier. It had been hard to leave him alone since he first heard him whisper his name in the woods that night that seemed like a century ago now. It had been spoken so quietly, not even his whole name, just a quiet “Ger” that had driven him crazy.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked, trying to get Jaskier to stop fretting over being heard and instead focus on the fact that Geralt was very much interested in fucking him tonight.

The admission was small but still so very hot as it tumbled from his lips in a single breath. “How much stronger you are than me. I was thinking about how good it would feel with you on top of me.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, using their positions to his advantage and knocking him off and onto the bedroll, fitting himself between his legs with ease. “Like this?”

Jaskier whimpered, nodding enthusiastically. “And I thought… I thought about your hands on my neck.”

Geralt did as instructed, placing a hand around his throat, feeling it move as he spoke again. “I like it rough.”

With a growl, Geralt gave up the game they were playing, stealing Jaskier’s lips in a hot, wet kiss, licking into his mouth and dominating him completely.

He groped around blindly, finding his other arm and pinning it above his head by his wrist.

“Mmmph…” Jaskier suddenly fought against his hand, struggling out of his hold until he pulled back to see what was wrong.

He looked frazzled already just from the kissing though he pulled his arm back down to hold against Geralt’s side. “Can we… I’m not saying I don’t love  _ this…” _ he gestured to all of the Witcher. “But maybe don’t hold me down. At least for tonight? Because really I do enjoy the whole dominating, holding me down and not letting me go thing, it’s just that this is the first time in a long time and-“

“You don’t have to explain.” Geralt stopped him before he ended up talking until the sun rose. “I understand.”

Jaskier studied his face a moment. Geralt didn’t move, not wanting to do anything wrong again.

“It just makes me feel trapped. And I used to like that and I am definitely sure I still do just not tonight.”

“Okay.” Geralt agreed wholeheartedly and sincerely. He could do that.

“Can I do something?”

Geralt nodded, letting him up. The creature wiggled out from underneath him and guided him back slowly to their original position. He crawled on top of him, pulling the witcher’s shirt off and tossing it into the night.

Slowly Jaskier leaned down, capturing his lips with a gentle kiss and then a harsh bite on his neck, licking and sucking over the skin in apology before doing it again a little lower. By the time he made it to his chest Geralt could already feel bruises forming in some of the places, his cock twitching at the thought of being marked.

Never would he ever have thought Jaskier would be the one to take charge during sex, not that he was complaining when he latched onto one of his nipples, running a soft hand through the grey hair on his chest lovingly.

Geralt bit back a moan when Jaskier nipped at the tender flesh before giving the other the same treatment. He had never had someone pay attention to his pecs like Jaskier was- massaging and sucking at them as he did so often with women. It was strange and at the same time, he was half hard in his pants, resisting the urge to rub up against Jaskier’s warm weight seated in his lap.

Instead, he let the creature do what he wanted, making his way down his abdomen and pressing love bites and hickeys as he went, leaving no stone uncovered and no skin left clear of bruises. 

When he got to the helm of his pants, the creature finally tugged them down, just enough to free his cock and thighs.

Instead of going where he wanted him to with that sinful mouth though, Jaskier took to giving his thighs the same treatment, mouthing and biting at the insides of them and making Geralt shiver.

“Jaskier,” he growled, groin so hot it felt like he was burning. “Get on with it.”

“You’re big,” Jaskier noted, running his fingers down the line of silver hair to the large bunch at the base of his cock, still not touching him where it really counted.

“Jaskier.” He warned, frustration growing. “Stop tea-mmngh,” his words were cut off with a grunt. Without warning Jaskier took his cock into his mouth, swallowing him in one motion.

“Fuck,” he breathed, keeping his hips still as Jaskier rose up and down, bobbing his head and dragging his tongue up the underside of his dick. He looked up at Geralt with those innocent blue eyes, leaving Geralt paralyzed by the dirty image before him.

Unwittingly a hand found its way into his hair, grabbing onto the brown mess before his mind caught up to him, remembering how he had reacted when Geralt last tried to hold him.

Jaskier pulled up when he felt the hand leave his hair with a pout on his spit slicked red lips. “Please pull my hair.”

Geralt looked to him a moment longer before laying his hand back down, gripping onto the hair lightly.

“Harder,” Jaskier whined, dropping back down to his earlier ministrations.

Breathing labored, Geralt pulled his hair, tugging him into the motions he wanted most, all but using his mouth. 

He could feel Jaskier’s own hard cock still in his pants rubbing against his leg. Geralt presses into his crotch, drawing a pained, pleasured whine from Jaskier who humped the offending leg, rutting into him with abandon.

“Jas…” he trailed off, trying to urge him up before he came. Some of the women didn’t like it he had learned, having to urge them off before he came. Instead, Jaskier just doubled down, keeping up the fast pace until Geralt tumbled off the cliff of orgasm, the release like a bomb in his loins. His head hit the ground, thrown back in ecstasy as Jaskier made a small choking sound, swallowing around him until he couldn’t anymore, pulling up with a dribble of cum dripping down his chin.

Geralt sat up, both staring at each other and panting harshly, trying to catch their breath.

“What’d you think?” Jaskier spoke first with a smirk.

Geralt fell onto his back with a grunt. “Fuck.”

“‘Mmm,” he hummed, considering the response as he stretched out next to him on the mat, snuggling into his side. “I get that a lot actually.”

Geralt closed his eyes, basking in the afterglow, cock still pulsing and trembling from the amazing orgasm until he heard Jaskier shuffling. He glanced over, watching him remove his pants and toss them away from him.

He wiggled his way up against Geralt’s side, resting his head against his shoulder and tugging the blankets over them haphazardly.

“What about you?” he asked to which he received a sheepish smile.

“I need to wash my pants in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I stick with my outline, we are about halfway through, give or take a chapter or so! How do y'all feel about it?


	6. Past all the signs of the slow decline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite their sexual activities slowing them down by days, Jaskier and a Geralt make it to Lan Exeter and separate when a stranger promises to give them the coat at a price. Trouble seems to have a way of finding them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t even know where this was going when I started lmao

Jaskier was horny as ever as they passed through the newest miscellaneous town. There wasn’t a tightness in his pants yet, but he could feel it growing and gnawing at his loins like a hunger.

The new problem, as Geralt had so eloquently griped at him the other day, was now that because of whatever relationship they had started, Jaskier couldn’t think of anything except taking a break in any passing lake or stream they found and having sex. But really, who could blame him?

Geralt was the epitome of sex. His ass was like a bubble for gods’ sake and Jaskier had to stare at that mountain of muscle with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair falling messily in his face all day every day as they rode and then that ass when he stood.

Jaskier was going to die now if he wasn’t touched by the man at least once a day if not more.

At the current moment, he couldn’t help but badger the man to stop, thinking about the inn not far up the road. They could get a room, sleep in an actual bed for once, to fuck on something soft instead of the cold hard ground.

Geralt to shut him down immediately. He griped that all their sexual activities had slowed them down by days.

That was fair, but Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to care. Jaskier couldn’t remember the last time he was so happy, coat and time be damned.

It became a routine ever since that first night together after the lake. The second he woke up, he wanted to be fucked and before they went to bed, he wanted to at least be touched by the man, he’d take anything he would give him. They began to share a bedroll, having combined their mass of blankets together to make just enough room for them both to snuggle closely- starting their day with sweet nothings and constant orgasms. 

He’d beg for it if he had to, get down on his knees. Not that that would be inherently bad either, he could suck the Witcher’s cock all day if he asked him to.

The skyline of the town was behind them now, the path they were on well worn by past travelers leaving and going. Geralt rode on ahead of him as he so often did, leading the way- mostly because he was the one out of the two who knew how to read a map and also because Jaskier was dragging his feet, complaining loudly at the thought of more travel.

He was trying his best to get the Witcher to react and when words did not suffice, he pulled his lute from his shoulder, strumming out a tune. “My witcher is better than any other Witcher his cock is as great as the late-“

“Jaskier.”

“What?” he asked, flamboyantly. “Please Geralt, you’re interrupting the creative process. I almost had a song there.”

“Your songs are terrible,” he grumbled.

“Ah!” Jaskier choked, indignant. “Now that was mean! You know I’d gladly stop _if_ you’d-“

Geralt suddenly stopped Roach, Buttercup narrowly missing her as she skidded to a stop beside her.

“Strip,” Geralt growled, jumping down from his horse and wandering off to a tree, tying Roach to it without a look back at him.

Jaskier glanced around but did as he was asked, all but throwing himself off his horse to get down fast enough and guiding her over to the tree to join Roach.

“Right here?” He asked excitedly, pulling his shirt off.

Geralt nodded, watching him with narrowed eyes, annoyance still palpable.

The noise from the town hadn’t even died down all the way, the bustle of everyday life continuing on behind them just out of reach. It seemed _too_ exposed. He loved a good thrill just like the next person, but this seemed far too daring.

“Unless you want to go back riding, you’re going to strip right now,” Geralt ordered, voice unwavering. “No more complaining.”

Jaskier weighed his options. He was pretty sure he’d die of embarrassment if someone happened upon them- he may just take Yennefer up on her offering of becoming a seal forever so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. But then again he’d also die if he didn’t get the Witcher’s hands on his cock right that instant.

“Can we at least go behind a bush or something like rabbits?” He asked hopefully.

Geralt raised his eyebrow and took not but two steps back into the forest and gestured to the ground. No seclusion, not even a bush to dive behind if someone did come along. Just a thin tree behind them and the sky above them.

Sensing his hesitation Geralt shifted, the hard look in his eyes softening. “You don’t have to Jas.”

The nickname- nay, pet name- was new and reverted so fondly in his heart his felt adoration swell at the soft tone at which he said it. 

“I know,” Jaskier nodded enthusiastically, dropping his pants into a pile with his shirt and boots. “It's very hot though.”

Geralt smirked, satisfied with the answer and sat down in the grass. He braced his back to the tree and crossed his legs, patting his lap in a clear order.

With a final look back to the road, he made his way into the grassy area, watching where he stepped to avoid anything sharp or rough that might be hidden in the brush.

“Back to me.” Geralt demanded. 

“What?” Jaskier stopped, unsure. Geralt’s eyes never left his face but he could still feel how his attention was anywhere but, raking over his naked body. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel like doing whatever it was that the Witcher wanted from him. 

“Back to me,” he repeated as if that would help clarify the situation any.

Jaskier damn near loved the man. Maybe it was some sort of heroic idealism he had going on to make him feel such a thing. Falling for his savior or whatever. But the man was as thick-headed as a doorknob sometimes.

“Like a chair?” Jaskier asked, shivering a little at the cold gust of wind. 

“Yes.”

It was an awkward maneuver to bend down and sit on him but strong hands gripping his hips once he was within reach, pulling him down until the back of his thighs were pressed against the tops of his pants, back against his chest. The fabric was soft against his skin, the leather smooth and cool as a flush rose across his body. He wasn’t ever one for embarrassment at being naked but feeling Geralt’s fully clothed body beneath him made his ears go warm- so acutely away at just how naked he was. If anyone came across them it wouldn’t be Geralt who was on full display, just him.

Geralt wrapping his hands around the back of his knees, pulling his legs apart to rest on the outside of his own. Hot breath tickled his ear as he leaned in, lips pressed against his neck as he spoke. “You look like a whore.”

Jaskier bit his lip, eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of his large hand grabbing his cock.

When did he put oil in his hand? Jaskier couldn’t think straight, the slick grip like a glove, massaging and coaxing him to be fully erect.

“We aren’t far from Lan Exeter but you couldn’t wait that long could you? I wanted to get us a room,” Geralt breathed, nipping on his neck. Jaskier jumped, head tilting to try and protect it from the onslaught only to have Geralt stop him, pulling his head back to the side to give himself full access. His neck was already littered with slowly healing bites and bruises, the man just made more over the ones he had already left.

“I wanted to fuck you on an actual bed. I was going to go slow, take my time.”

Geralt rarely spoke so much but gods, when he did. Jaskier whined, hips canting into the tight fist around him and imagining every word that came from his mouth like it was real in that very moment. He could picture it- laying on the bed after a fresh warm bath, maybe he could have helped Geralt bathe. The bedding soft like royalty, slow touches, and sweet kisses that made his knees give in and heart melt. Deft fingers found long white hair, clutching it tightly to anchor him back to earth.

“Instead you want to act like a slut. Can’t even ride a damn horse without begging for it.”

The fantasy shattered with a reminder of just how dirty he was being fucked on the roadside like a traveling prostitute. And oh lord there was that oil again- they had already used half of it they were going to have to get more soon but he was pouring it in his hand generously and snaking it alongside his other that never stopped working Jaskier over. Geralt lapped at his reddened neck, pleased with the new marks that were forming next to his old ones.

Fingers were at his hole, teasingly rubbing around the edge of the puckered skin and slipping in, penetrating his most intimate place and ripping a soft gasp from his chest that heaved in an effort to keep himself quiet. 

He didn’t think something could feel so good as it did to be writhing in the man’s lap, cock aching and consumed in arousal. One finger shifted to two, Geralt relishing in each and every sound he managed to pull from him as he parted his fingers, stretching him in preparation for what was to come. 

Once he was satisfied with his work, Geralt forced him onto his knees, keeping an ar around his waist to keep him from falling over to undo his pants, excitement turning Jaskiers stomach to butterflies as he settled back down, his stiff cock resting between his spread asscheeks like a promise.

“Are you… oh thank the gods,” Jaskier whined.

“You just wanted to be fucked where everyone could see you.”

“How’d you-you know?” Jaskier tried to tease back, stuttering on his words at the sound of a branch snapping close by. His limbs locked up, freezing like deer who’s been spotted.

Oh, gods was there someone there?

He tried to stand up, wiggle out of his reach, ready to go and investigate just in case but Geralt didn’t let go, urging his hips up and back down onto his cock.

“Wait,” he whined. “Wait I heard something.”

“I don’t care. Maybe the world needs to know how much of a horny bastard you are. You might as well be a bitch in heat with how much you beg for it.”

The words fueled the fire inside him as Geralt guided him down, the stretch and burn of being filled to the brim acting as the kindle- making the flames grow higher, immersing him in lust.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he chanted, sweat dripping down his brow. If anyone was out there they would definitely hear them- he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t keep a lookout anymore not that Geralt seemed to care who would happen upon them.

When he finally bottomed out it felt like his cock was all the way in his stomach, thick and hot, stretching him until he didn’t think it was possible anymore.

Jaskier didn’t get much time to adjust to the feeling before the Witcher was moving his hips, pounding into him with a damn near feral growl.

“Can I do this?” his voice was suddenly soft, a caring and sweet undertone that shocked Jaskier to the core- so mismatched when compared to the current situation. A hand wrapped around his throat, not push or holding but asking for permission.

“Gods yes please please please please,” Jaskier whined, picking his own hips up and plunging himself back down, riding him for all he’s worth.

His hand tightened around his throat, restricting it just enough to make it harder to breathe. Jaskier jerked on his hair, drawing a quiet grunt from the man that he wanted to hear on a much louder scale-like heaven to his ears.

It felt like they were there for an eternity, each thrust brushing against the sweet spot inside him drawing a loud moan from his lips, one hand to his throat and the other working over his cock in time.

“Ger… Ger please.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered in his ear, biting on the lobe and burying his nose in his locks, breathing in his smell. “Cum for me.”

It wasn’t instantaneous but the words certainly spurred him on, chasing his own release and fucking himself down onto Geralt’s cock, pulling up to meet his hand. The duality of sensations pushed him to the breaking point until he couldn’t do more than rock his hips around, chasing both at the same time, cum spitting over Geralt’s hand and on his stomach. 

Lost in a post-orgasmic haze, Jaskier felt boneless as Geralt suddenly dumped him onto the ground on his hands and knees in the grass, cheek resting against the cool blades comfortingly. He hauled his hips back into the air, reentering with vigor, ramming his cock back into his fucked out hole with an indecipherable murmur. 

Fucking into him with abandon, Geralt chased his own orgasm, biting new spots on his neck with each overwhelmed moan Jaskier cried out. He gave in to being used like a toy, letting Geralt do what he wanted- too immersed in the sensation and aftershocks that continued to rock his body.

Hot liquid filled his insides, Geralt’s hips finally stilling after the brutal fuck as he unloaded deep inside him.

They sat in silence only interrupted by harsh panting. 

It didn’t even feel like he had enough energy to move, his bones ached, exhaustion curling into his very core.

Geralt finally pulled out, admiring the dribble of cum that followed in his wake. Jaskier blushed bright red at the dirty feeling and even more so when Geralt used his thumb to push it back into his puffy, red hole.

“Geralt,” he whined in protest, quelled only when strong arms picked him up, holding him up against his chest again with his head tucked into the witcher’s neck.

Jaskier tried to catch his breath, the ache in his hips and back growing with every second. Normally he would relish in it, but the thought of getting back on a horse after this made him want to scream. 

Geralt tucked himself back into his pants, pulling them back up and tucking his shirt in the best he could with Jaskier sitting on his lap, once again bringing attention to just how very naked he was. It made him feel vulnerable, overwhelmingly so, but at the same time, when he looked up at Geralt, hair falling into his face and watching him with those gorgeous gold eyes, he felt safe. Cared for. He didn’t want it to ever stop.

But then a fresh, cold breeze washed over his overheated skin, making him shiver slightly. Geralt chucked, urging him to stand and doing the same, gathering his pile of clothes and bringing them over to him. 

Jaskier obliged, letting Geralt help slide his shirt over his head, holding out his pants for him until he was ready and dressed.

“We’ve got a days ride ahead of us,” Geralt smirked when Jaskier leaned on him to put his boots back on. 

“Noooo,” Jaskier whined, giving him the best puppy-eyes he could manage after being so thoroughly fucked out.

Geralt shook his head, untying Roach and Buttercup. “We’ll be in Lan Exeter by tomorrow.”

“You’re so mean. We could get a room here so my poor ass doesn’t-“

“You’re stalling.” Geralt interrupted, understanding creating a new light in his eyes.

Jaskier stopped. He didn’t think about it like that but he supposed it wasn’t far from the truth.

“… what if it’s not there?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could even really think about them himself. His coat was a part of him. He couldn’t bear to have hope of finding it again just for it to be ripped away. What were the chances of it even being there after all this time? And not only that but once he found his coat, would Geralt leave? Would he let him come with him on his travels still? There was so much uncertainty it was daunting, towering over him and looming in the distance and growing with each step towards Lan Exeter.

Jaskier knew he was annoying but he could make a good traveling companion. He wasn’t totally sure what it was exactly that drew him to those gold eyes and brooding, grouchy attitude and his weird sense of humor or his perfect body but he never wanted to leave his side. If that was even an option.

“Then it’s not there.”

Jaskier cringed. It wasn’t exactly the comforting words he had been hoping for, there was no reassurance of ‘it’s there jaskier, we’ll find it’ but then again that wasn’t who Geralt was.

“If it’s not, we’ll keep looking.”

There it was. His words were never what he expected but somehow exactly what he needed to hear.

Geralt gave him a soft smile. “Come here, I’ll help you up.”

“My hero,” Jaskier laughed, the ache in his hips settling in deep. He allowed Geralt to practically pick him up and place him in the saddle, helping to rearrange him so his sore ass wouldn’t hurt too much when they stopped again for the day. “Was there actually anyone there?”

Geralt gave him an absolute heart-throbbing smirk. “heightened senses, remember?”

Of course. Jaskier smiled softly.

“No one else gets to see you like that,” Geralt grabbed his shirt, pulling him down into a searing kiss. “You’re mine.”

 _His,_ Jaskier thought dreamily. It was a wonderful rush to feel the Witcher’s claim on him.

He didn’t complain about the rest of the ride, a love song growing in his heart and a melody that brought a smile to Geralt’s face as if he knew what he was feeling. And maybe he was feeling it too. 

  
  
  


Lan Exeter towered in front of them ominously, a sense of forbidding etching its way under Jaskier’s skin. It was the biggest city he had been in in a long, long time. The gothic gates rose high, buildings near scraping the sky, so familiar and so foreign at the same time. Like a dream that he could only remember bits and pieces of.

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier jumped, looking at Geralt who seemed oddly annoyed. Had he been calling his name for a long time now?

“Sorry.”

“Come on.” 

He nodded, following Geralt closely as he led the way. The sun was bright, boring down onto them with the promise of spring just around the corner. It was too warm for him to hide beneath the witcher’s cloak like usual but he hoped they were far enough away that Aaberg’s influence couldn’t reach here.

Anxiety pinched his lungs. As they rode along, Jaskier couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming around everything he could possibly find like his coat would just be lying around the streets.

There were tons of people around the cobbled roads, no one paying much attention to the pair. A group of kids ran past them, a pet dog hot on their heels and a mother shouting in the distance. It felt friendly despite the intimidating nature of the city, relaxing some of the tension Jaskier carried in his shoulders.

Geralt kept his guard up still, watching everything with suspension as they made their way down the main street. 

“Oi! A Witcher!” A man shouted from the inner part of a group of people, emerging from the horde. He was short in stature, bald with a pasty complexion that was hidden beneath a bushy black beard. He seemed friendly despite his rough appearance though as he ran towards them excitedly. “Geralt of Rivia right? Your reputation precedes you.”

“Hmm.”

The man didn’t seem too put out by his lack of response, continuing on with his proposal for the witcher. “The towns had a hit out on a monster for a few weeks now. The local mage said it was a kikimore but wouldn’t kill it for us. A couple of the villagers pooled our resources, we can pay you to kill it.”

Geralt glanced back at Jaskier. “Maybe in a few days. Right now I’m looking for something.”

The man seemed perplexed, arms crossed. “Alright. What is it?”

“I’m looking for a selkie coat.”

Jaskier sat up at the words, terrified. Why would Geralt just ask that of someone? Would a random guy off the street even know where it was?

“Hm,” he thought for a moment. “I know where one is. Brown, got some spots on it. I don’t know if it’s the same one you’re looking for but I have a deal for you. You go kill that kikimore, and I’ll tell you where to find the coat.”

It was here just like Yennefer said! The prospect filled him with sheer elation, the broadest of smiles spreading across his face. 

Geralt growled angrily, surely about to say something vaguely rude or demand the information from the man when Jaskier intersecting quickly. “Okay, okay, Geralt, you go kill the kikimore, you take me to the coat. We’ll meet in the middle.”

“And who are you?” The man asked with eyes narrowed.

Jaskier froze. Who was he? Definitely not the monster who’s coat that was, nope not him.

“My bard.” Geralt answered him instead. “He stays with me.”

“No, Geralt please it’s fine,” he nodded eagerly, walking in front of the Witcher and off towards the man.

“Aye. We could meet at the Ocean Side. It’s the best bar in town,” the man suggested with a tight-lipped smile.

“The Ocean Side,” Jaskier repeated. That sounded familiar. With a start, he remembered that being the name of the first tavern he had ever gone to. Excitedly he nodded to Geralt who gave a thoughtful sigh.

“Fine. I’ll meet you there in a day. That’ll give me enough time to track it down and kill it.”

The man nodded. “Sounds good to me. The names Seamore by the way. Seamore of Exeter.”

“Hm.”

Seamore stuck his hand out but Geralt ignored him, turning his whole body to Jaskier in obvious dismissal. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine! I’ll see you when you get back, okay?”

Geralt stares at him a moment longer. “Tomorrow then.”

That was the best goodbye he would get out of the man before he turned, riding off slowly outside of the city.

The two watched him go before Jaskier turned back to Seamore with a charming smile. “Right, where to?”

“Follow me,” he grinned back.

Jaskier jumped down, taking ahold of Buttercups reins and guiding her through the streets. They got out of the high rising buildings towards a more cottage and home area. Seamore didn’t talk much, Jaskier following along in excited silence. He led him to a small, ruddy looking home, further away from the rest of the houses. It wasn’t quite what he was picturing but still, he followed, placing blind trust in the man at the prospect of having his coat back. 

He could just see it, the soft brown, sleek fur, how wonderful it would feel to be with it again, a relief he didn’t even think was possible a few weeks ago. Now he had it and Geralt. He was free, home just seconds away, a whole new and bright future in front of him.

“Is it in there?” Jaskier spoke up as they walked up the path to the home. 

“It’s inside.”

Jaskier stopped. An inkling in his heart like a prick of unease wiggles it’s way under his skin. Something wasn’t right in his tone, too smug and knowing.

“What about you bring it out to me, and we can go drink at the tavern? I’ll buy it as thanks,” Jaskier took a step back, trying his best to bullshit his way out of the situation at hand.

The door of the home opened at the ruckus outside they were making. 

Jaskier could just make out the shadow of an all too familiar man in the doorway, a cruel turn to his lips. He turned to run, terror searing its way deep inside his heart that dropped to his stomach. He didn’t even make two steps towards his horse when he was struck in the back of the head. With intense pain, he fell to the ground, everything going black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot is thicc in the end, lemme know how y’all feel about the ending!


	7. Song for the living, song for the dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is on the hunt for Jaskier, willing to do risk anything to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo, I'm excited, writing action sequences is really difficult but this story is so, so close to being finished. It's gotta get worse before it gets better though. Angst for days. This chapter is also short but it through off the pacing to focus on anything else in this chapter.

The kikimore was just a juvenile and while it was still a powerful beast, it had been easy enough to kill. Still, it had been a full day of hunting it down and killing it; a full day of trusting some stranger with Jaskier’s safety.

It hadn’t been a good idea to separate as they had but if Jaskier was anything, it was persistent. He didn’t want to openly question his companion’s choice in front of a stranger- it would have shown too much vulnerability between them. Besides that, he could practically hear Jaskier’s indignant voice whining that Geralt didn’t trust him. 

The situation felt odd though- some random man just happened to approach them and know where his coat was. It didn’t feel right but he couldn’t place what it was that was bothering him so much about the man. 

Still, he trusted Jaskier. He had proven himself well enough; he could take care of himself, kind of. On a good day at least. He could find trouble like a magnet but he had his voice, his whit, and that infernal lute. _If worst came to worst, Jaskier could always annoy someone to death with it,_ Geralt thought fondly.

The tavern was a busy, bustling place but in a big city like Lan Exeter, that was expected from any establishment. He ordered an ale from the surly-looking bartender, scanning the room to find himself a table to sit in the back and sip his drink while waiting for Jaskier and Seamore to appear. 

The man slid him the beer across the table gave him a glare, showing his obvious distaste for witchers. _What an original concept,_ Geralt accepted it with grace, sliding him some coin in payment. 

“Have you served a man by name of Seamore here today?” He asked passively, picking up the huge mug. The man didn’t answer, glaring him down and wiping the bar off as if the greasy, dirty rag would actually clean anything.

With an aggregated sigh, he left the interaction at that and found his table in the back of the room. He didn’t care what humans thought of him, but it would be nice to get a straight answer once in a while.

The ale tasted like piss but it was the most alcohol he’d had in the two weeks since their last tavern experience. It seemed like millennia now to think about, that first full day he had spent with Jaskier near a full month ago. The person the creature had become versus who he was at the beginning of their journey was totally different.

Then again, so was Geralt. He felt… softer. But only soft for Jaskier. The thought tugged the corners of his lips into a small smile that he hid behind the mug in a long gulp.  
He wasn’t sure what their future would hold once they found the coat, a thought that he pushed to the back of his mind before he could dwell on it too long.

Geralt kept an eye on the sun out the dingy window, watching it grow ever higher into the sky and sink down low in the afternoon, sipping on the shitty ale and alternating staring out into the horde of people for any sight of Jaskier or the man. At first, he attributed their absence to the earliness of the day until his ears caught a snippet of a conversation happening a few tables over.

“Did you hear he caught the damn thing?”

“Yes,” the man sighed dramatically, rubbing his hand over his sunkissed face, cheeks pink. “What luck do we have right? That reward was big enough to buy a couple of horses and land to go with ‘em.”

Geralt eyed the men, noting their appearance. Dingy clothes, sunburnt faces, raggedy hair. He shook his head, going back to his ale. Just as he was about to pay them no mind, the second man spoke up, catching his attention again.

“He said he walked right up to them too. Like it was nothing. No big brawl no fight just fed em some lie and they… holy shit is that _the_ Witcher over there?”

Geralt looked up, locking eyes with the two men he had been eavesdropping on who watched him with wide- horrified eyes. 

He gave them a death glare. At first, there was a level of confusion simmering in his brain but as he pieced their words together, anger masked the fear that bottomed out in his stomach. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind who they were talking about.

“Oh shit,” one of them, the younger one of the two, scrambled, trying to wiggle his way out of his chair but Geralt was quicker, striding over to them to tower over their table ominously, forcing them to look up at him.

“W-wait okay,” he held up his hands, long shaggy hair falling in his eyes. “Sorry to hear about your selkie. we didn’t have anything to do with it though.”

His selkie. 

“Who has him.” He growled, drawing the blade from his back in warning. The silver glint caught their attention, looking to each other and floundering like they shared a single brain cell, forcing it to bounce in between them to form a sentence. “The-the guy who was offering the reward. Agaberg or whatever.”

Aaberg.

“And Seamore?”

“Who?”

Geralt dug his sword into the table with a snarl, a terrified squeak coming from the cowardly men. “The man who cashed the reward.”

“Ah okay,” one man gulped. “We don’t know no Seamore. The guy was at the other tavern this morning getting sloshed it was the only way we found out about it-“

“You’re going to take me to him,” Geralt threatened, “or I’m going to kill you both right here right now.”

The two nodded eagerly, rushing up from their seats so fast the chairs clattered backward against the floor- nothing more than a whisper in the loud room. Geralt dug the tip of his blade into one of their backs, rushing them on and out of the tavern and forcing them to keep up with his fast stride.

The witcher was seeing red, fear, dread and adrenaline coursing through her veins like a fire. Jaskier could be dead for all he knew or already on the other side of the country. Aaberg had a day on him already and the country was wide and wild. He could be rushing headlong only to find his dead body lying on the beach- so close to his home that Geralt had promised to get him back to.

The thought hurt like he had been stabbed in the chest, aching deep between his ribs so hard he damns near felt around to make sure it wasn’t a real wound.

The two men stumbled wildly out the doors, one tripping over his own feet with a spot of blood ringing the back of his shirt.

On a different day, a different time, a different situation he’d feel bad for harming someone who had nothing to do with what was going on. Today, he couldn’t give less of a shit.

“Now,” he hissed, jaw clenched.

They made their way down the streets, drawing the attention of curious onlookers who didn’t spare them a second glance at the mean snarl Geralt bore and his trusty sword reflecting the sun’s power.

There was a definite, large crowd inside the bar that the two men shakily pointed to- much more than what would be expected. He shoulder checked them abruptly, striding inside the establishment with his sword still drawn and ready.

It didn’t take him long to scan the innocuous faces, finding Seamore sitting surrounded by empty beer mugs with a lady on his arm, talking to anyone who would listen.

His eyes locked with Geralt’s across the room, face paling at the sight of the man he betrayed.

Geralt wasted no time, striding up to the man, the tip of his steel blade pressed under his chin as silence befell the room, attention hanging on every word that was said between the two.

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

Geralt sneered, digging the blade into the thin skin, a small rivulet of blood spilling down the blade.

“Jaskier.”

 _My friend. My lover_ , the only person he cared for anymore. He loved Yen but not the same way he cared for Jaskier- nowhere close. Jaskier was special with his inhuman eyes and goofy smile, his over the top personality the way he wormed his way under Geralt’s skin when he wasn’t expecting it and slipped his way into his heart before he knew what was even happening.

Witcher’s don’t need anyone. But Geralt needed Jaskier like he needed to breathe.

“The-the selkie?” The man gulped. “I turned him in! Got my rewards and ran honestly-“

“I don’t give a shit. Take me to where you last saw him.”

Seamore’s eyes narrowed smugly. “And why should I, witcher?”

“That reward?” Geralt asked, pushing the tip of the sword into his skin more just sort of seriously injuring him, drawing a pained whimper from his throat unwittingly. “Will add nothing to your death.”

Seamore didn’t consider the implications of his words for long, spitting out “… fine.”

Hand clutching his spilling neck, blood dripping down onto his crisp white shirt, Seamore stood, leading the way out through the back door of the establishment. 

“Don’t stab me just yet witcher,” Seamore gulped when the sword pressed against his back. “I just wanted the money, nothing against you or the selkie.”

“How did you know to approach us?” Geralt asked as they walked, making their way through the streets.

“Aaberg said there’d be a witcher and a handsome man coming through this town soon. I saw you and knew you must be the handsome fellow.” He sneered.

“And the kikimore?”

“Aaberg said to send you after it if we could get you to believe us. It was just a ploy.”

So it had been a trap since they walked into the town. Hell, Jaskier had mentioned Aaberg had a mage, maybe they had been able to even fool Yennefer. The coat might not be here at all, just a long elaborate plan to ambush them.

On the outskirts of the city, Seamore came to a stop, pointing in the direction of a bunch of houses and farms. “The rundown looking one over there is where I took him, I don’t know if he’s still here or not.”

“Hmm.” Geralt grumbled, debating if he should kill the man still or not. 

But he supposed, he couldn’t punish him for giving in to humans lust for greed. He roughly shoved the man to the ground, starting towards the rundown looking shack, determination to get Jaskier back burning his soul like a red hot iron.

“Good luck, witcher!” Seamore called.

Geralt ignored him, continuing on his march.

There were horses roaming the fences fields behind the house indicating someone must be there still. He narrowed his eyes, noticing the one who was still fairly skinny with a familiar saddle on it and a single white sock.

Buttercup trotted up to the fence when she saw Geralt, confirming his suspicions. He’d come back and deal with the horse later. Sword armed and ready, he crouched to avoid detection, making his way to kneel in front of a window, trying to see inside.

Aaberg was lounging in a chair, swirling his glass like some kind of stereotypical bad guy- the kind that children would scream when they emerged in the play.

Jaskier was nowhere to be seen- at least in that room. It was a fairly large house, leaving plenty of room for him to be hidden inside. Instead, he found a few men milling around, speaking quietly. He didn’t spot an obvious mage either, not that there wasn’t one in there.

Going through the front door would be too obvious. If Aaberg hadn’t high tailed it out of Lan Exeter already, he was waiting for him. He must have known Geralt wouldn’t stop looking for him or maybe he wanted to kill him for helping Jaskier in the first place, he couldn’t be sure. Still, he hoped the fence, shooing Buttercup who happily followed him, trying to nibble his hair. He couldn’t have it on his conscience if the horse got hurt in the midst of the fighting that was about to go on. He couldn’t handle Jaskier’s heartbroken expression. And he really liked the horse, she was as Jaskier so often said, a good girl just like Roach.

Making his way around the house there were two more rooms in the back with more men inside.

Finally, he saw Jaskier in the third and final room. His arms and legs were bound together tightly, gagged and sat up against the wall out of the way. There was dried blood in his hair that had leaked down his forehead, crusted and matted. His shirt slipping down a shoulder to reveal a horrible, nasty bruise so dark his skin looked black with the plague. It was no disease though, more than likely a dislocated shoulder. His lip was split, but those were the only visible injuries, not there wasn’t likely more hidden beneath his torn clothing.

Jaskier’s eyes opened occasionally like he was fighting his head wound to stay awake, eyes drifting to the corner of the room and looking at something or someone with obvious trepidation. As if he was staying awake out of fear of whatever was in the room with him.

The situation was bad. Geralt was no fool. He was strong, but was he strong enough to fight off a half dozen men, a mage, and whoever else happened to be in the home which was an obvious trap for him?

Probably not.

Yennefer wouldn’t come to help him either, he had already asked for her help once this month. He was on his own. Jaskier would be dead weight as well with how out of it he seemed to be.

Fuck.

Geralt was never one for plans anyways.

He went to the significantly less filled room two windows over, thankful he had his saddlebag with him on his side- not trusting anyone enough to leave in on Roach who was still at the stables next to the tavern. He opened the continents, searching the various potions he had acquired and grabbed two. One was a thick black liquid and the other, a suspiciously clear one. He tossed the black one down like a shot with a grimace and the other into the room. 

The explosion was smaller than he expected but still loud and felt, glass shards splintering from the window and into his hair as he barely ducked in time.

Geralt sat up, surveying the damage he had been able to deal. The blast had taken out one man who laid dead on the floor and the other two in the room somewhere between dead and injured. Three down, an unnumerable more to go.

The sound brought the attention of the others in the house who came rushing to the room, throwing the door open with their weapons drawn. 

_Here goes nothing._

Geralt waited for one to approach the window, investigating where the source of the bomb had come from before he sprung up, burying his sword to the hilt in the man’s chest. The life drained slowly from his eyes as his body slumped around the blade. He had no time to think about him though, blocking the next attack with the dead body. A spray of blood hit his cheek as the new target caught on the deadman’s hand He shoved the body onto his friend, almost knocking him down with the literal dead weight and held up his arm, blocking another hit from a different person with his armor.

The mage wasn’t coming, he realized, slicing his sword through another man who dropped dead to the ground like a fly. That must be who was guarding Jaskier- a smart plan on Aaberg’s behalf.

More men just kept coming, climbing through the window and forcing him retreat, taking the fight from half in and half out to completely outside. Even with the potion that turned his eyes black and heightened his senses, he couldn’t keep up. Geralt bent down into the grass, dodging another blow that scraped along the back of his neck and searched his bag again.

A few more jumped out the window, making him give up the search to fend them off as more continued to crawl out after him like a horde of ants. Finally, his hand blindly found the bottle he was looking for, tossing it into the room, another explosion rocking the foundation of the house to its core and stopping reinforcements in their tracks. After that only a two more men struggled out of the window, soot and blood covering their skin.

A deep, searing pain emitted from his back. Geralt swing around, ripping the knife from his lower back and throwing to the ground in a clatter, swinging his blade down so hard the man’s head nearly rolled off.

His back and side were on fire, blood seeping under his armor but he couldn’t stop, immediately fighting off another man. He put up a good fight, getting the drop on Geralt more than once before he finally won out against him.

Time blurred as did his vision, only able to focus from one slain body to the next, the pile around him growing and growing, each taking more energy to fend off. Fresh wounds tore through his body until his limbs grew slow as the last man fell.

Every inch of his body hurt. Panting and exhausted, Geralt glanced up, blowing a strand of hair that had came free from his face, readying himself for his next challenge. 

Aaberg stood in the window, watching him with a dark glare.

Geralt stood tall under his gaze, ignoring the pain that racked his body with every move.

“All of this for something as useless as that mutt in there.” Aaberg looked down at the bodies with indifference. “What are you even going to do with him?”

“If you didn’t want me to have him you shouldn’t have given him to me in the first place,” Geralt spit a blob of blood out of his mouth. After all the fighting for his life and Jaskier’s, his veins were searing, feral with the energy of war in his blood.

“I expected you to kill him not keep him as a pet,” Aaberg scoffed. “I had the damn thing for two years people were catching on but if I just let him go he could have come back and killed me. But when you took him like that I wanted him ba-”

Geralt lunged, digging his sword into flesh one final time. Soliloquies would really only ever work in plays, and he couldn’t care less as to Aaberg’s reasoning for attacking them yet again.

The lord fell to his knees, giving him a final glance before crumpling to the ground.

Breathing heavily, Geralt turned his attention to the window next door, forcing his feet to move, one step at a time. He didn’t know how he would manage another fight with the mage now, but he’d deal with that when he got to it.

Jaskier’s wide blue eyes locked with his, terrified. Relief filled them at the sight of the Witcher, visibly relaxing against the wall behind him as he searched over his face- hurt but alive.

There was no time for relief as the witch stepped out from behind the wall, opening the window and sticking her head of curly brown hair out. “Is he dead?”

“Yes.” Geralt answered her honestly.

“Good.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile, eyes bright with mirth. “I mean… oh no,” she corrected herself sarcastically. ”my lord died. Guess I will have to leave now, mortally wounded from the Witcher while fighting on his behalf,” she clutched her side, turning and walking out with a sway of her hips.

Geralt never understood why witches were so dramatic sometimes but she reminded him of Yen the way she uncaringly moved about as if herself was the only thing that mattered to her. He didn’t know why or how she came into Aaberg’s service, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He just prayed it didn't come back to bite him in the ass for letting her go.

Geralt walked back to the destroyed window next to him, stepping through and over Aaberg’s body. The inside of the house was just as dilapidated as the outside. He pushed his way through the pain, finding the room where Jaskier was- now alone with the witch nowhere to be found.

He bent down and untied his hands. Instead of caring for himself, fingers ran over his face frantically, looking over all of Geralt’s wounds. The soft-touch was soothing, the wild anger and pain he felt quelled. Jaskier was safe, he could rest.

Geralt sighed, falling into Jaskier’s lap, head resting on his thigh, his frightened face being the last thing he saw as his eyes fell shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliff hanger! I'm sorry. What did ya'll think?


	8. Wake up to the sound of your fleeting heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the hunt for the lost coat comes to an end, Geralt realizes if there’s is one thing he can’t do in life, it’s losing Jaskier. He decides to take fate into his own hands before he sees Jaskier ripped from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw someone asking for fluff in the comments on the last chapter, and I'm so sorry! This had been the original plan since the beginning and I almost took it out but it felt too easy to leave it at finding the coat. If you listen to the song Dear Fellow Traveler by Sea Wolf, it was what inspired me to write this fic in the first place.

Sunshine on dirt warming the earth. Spring. Sweet flowers coated in blood.

Geralt kept his eyes shut tight, nuzzling his face into the source of the familiar smell. He couldn’t force his brain to focus long enough to question why he smelt blood or the acidic smell of healing all over the creature. He was warmly wrapped in the blankets and Jaskier was next to him pressed along his side- the only things that really mattered. Jaskier muttered something into his hair but didn’t move, letting Geralt fall back asleep with his face to his neck and a soothing hand in his long white hair.

  
  
  
  


The next time Geralt awoke it was to a sharp, stinging pain in his back that lit his bones on fire.

“Quit moving,” Jaskier hissed at him, continuing his ministrations. The burning feeling stole his breath away short of a response.

“I’m sorry, I know, but I have to treat it. Do you want an infection?”

No, he wanted to sleep.

  
  
  
  


The third time he woke up, it was to a Jaskier’s voice. He was alone in the bedding, the space next to his back cold and empty. 

The words he sang were soft and quiet in the night as he tried not to wake Geralt up. Falling in and out of peaceful rest, Geralt caught brief snippets of the words sung so sweet and pretty it was almost a lullaby.

_“You spoke my language, And touched my limbs, It wasn't difficult, To pull me from myself again, And in our travels, We found our roads…”_

His mind drifted along, unsure if he wanted to be awake to hear the rest of the melodic song or asleep to quell the pain in his body.

Slowly he made his decision, blinking as he took in his surroundings. The light of the moon illuminated the room as events rushed back to him. 

Geralt sat up quickly, groaning at the ache in his muscles that hadn’t moved in so long. How long had he been out? Where were they?

Jaskier was at his side in an instant, soft hands on his sides to help him sit up, blue eyes wide with worry.

“Are you awake for sure this time?” Jaskier asked, face pinched in concern.

“Mmm.” Geralt grunted.

“It’s been two days now. Geralt, you scared the absolute shit out of me. Never do that again for fuck’s sake,” Jaskier berated him suddenly, looking crossed between kissing him hitting his shoulder, only refraining to not cause him anymore injury.

“What?” Geralt scoffed, pulling at the bandage around one of his arms. ”Save your life?”

“Yes!” Jaskier thought about it a moment longer. “Well. No but… yes you almost died! I swear when you passed out I thought this is the end. My stupidity killed a witcher. My father was wrong I wouldn’t be killed by a witcher I’d be the one killing him-“

“Jas,” Geralt sighed, cutting off his rant though the blabbering had brought a smile to his face. “Where are we?”

Jaskier stopped, focusing himself again at the task at hand. “We’re still in Aaberg's hideout. We didn’t have enough coins for a room so I found Roach and brought her here and gathered our things. We need to leave soon though, it starting to stink.”

Geralt nodded, letting Jaskier help him to take the bandage off. The cuts were minor now, but he distinctly remembered a knife cutting deep into the muscle. 

Looking around, the room was barren, at least all the dead bodies were in the other rooms beside theirs, though the smell was beginning to waft into the room they were in currently.

“I used your healing potions on you,” Jaskier explained. “I talked to the scary witch again-“

“You talked to Yen?” Geralt asked, interrupted, surprised considering how much she had scared Jaskier when they had met.

“Yes. I used your communication thingy in your bag. She said you needed to drink certain ones and you’d be fine.” He paused, looking him over. “Are you fine?”

Geralt nodded again, expression softening. Jaskier braved talking to Yennefer while caring for him over the past few days despite his own injuries. He ran his fingers lovingly over Jaskier’s hand that rested against the bedding, a gentle thanks.

Taking stock of his own injuries, his lower back was wrapped in a thick bandage where he had been stabbed and more on his arms. He unwrapped the other arm, happy to see that the worst of the wounds were but thin scratches, hoping that meant the worst stab wound through his back was better as well.

“Are you still hurt?” Geralt asked, remembering the arm and head injuries he had spotted days ago on Jaskier. He reached out to touch his shoulder before he could flinch back under the touch. He nodded, slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his red and purple blotched shoulder. “I took care of the head one for the most part but I couldn’t with this one.”

“… you know what we have to do right?”

Jaskier had tears in his eyes already, nodding again. “Gods, why is it always my arm?”

Geralt gulped, ignoring the poor attempt at humor and bracing a hand on his shoulder. Jaskier’s eyes squeezed shut tightly, bracing himself for the inevitable pain.

“On three okay?” 

Another nod.

“One-“

The resounding crack of bone made even the Witcher cringe. Jaskier screamed, choking off into a sob as his shoulder reset. 

Geralt pulled him close, letting the creature hide against his naked chest as he relaxed them back against their makeshift bedding and rubbing his back soothingly.

“Fucking hell,” he whimpered as the tears finally slowed. “That fucking hurt worse than when he came out of place.”

Geralt just hummed.

“You think I’m a baby,” he spoke again after a few moments.

“You are a baby.”

That time Jaskier did slap his arm, stifling his laughter at his own expense.

The pair sat like that for a long, long time, holding each other with the relief of safety melting into their bones. Dead bodies may be piled around them, they may have been on the brink of death themselves just days before and still healing from their wounds, but they were okay.

Geralt looked down when he felt a wet sensation on his chest, snorting when Jaskier began to snore just as soon as he had begun to drool.

He never thought holding someone so intimately while they slept would bring him such peace. If someone had asked him a month ago where he saw himself now, he wouldn’t for the life of him think he’d be clinging to someone he nearly lost.

There were still spots of blood in the creature’s hair but it seemed like he had tended to his head the best he could with one arm. Geralt would have to look at it in the morning when there was more light to make sure he had cleaned it well enough.

The night past slower than a snail.

Geralt couldn’t sleep anymore, having slept for days. All he could do was stare down at Jaskier and think. And overthink. He’d overthink so much he nearly shook the man awake just to have something to distract him, only to decide against it and close his eyes. The cycle would only repeat itself with the constant question replaying in his mind over and over.

What would he do if… when… jaskier died? 

It was inevitable. One of them would perish before the other. He didn’t know what a selkie and fossegrim lifespan would be like, or if it could compare to that of a witcher. 

And his lifestyle would only continue to risk the creature’s life. Jaskier was just as much of an idiot as he was absolutely brilliant. What would happen when they had a run-in with a djinn and it attacked him or if they fought a striga? 

Would he eventually give his life to save Jaskier from the trouble he attracts? Not that he would mind, it would be a worthy trade, one he would make in a heartbeat. But was it just as worth it to risk Jaskier’s life on every job he did? Not in the slightest.

But Geralt couldn’t leave his life behind either. He couldn’t picture himself as a farmer or whatever it was that people did for occupation other than monster slaying.

As he stared up at the walls into the wee hours of the morning, the sun creeping over the horizon, his mind reeled ever faster than before. Jaskier was reckless. He finds trouble like a bloodhound- not something that was particularly helpful in the life of a witcher. 

Fate was cruel. Destiny was just as bad. They’d take him from him before he could blink, he was sure.

Geralt loved him. And Geralt was a selfish, selfish man but even he could see what he needed to do to protect him. They were at the end of their journey together- the only objective left was finding his coat and the thought hurt more than any stab wound.

Geralt’s mind only quieted long enough to catch some sleep before he awoke to Jaskier stirring against him, moving around and stretching, settling back down close against him in the cold room. The walls only provided so much insulation from the frosty morning air. The sun hadn’t quite reached noon but it was close, signaling they had gotten a long, much-needed rest, or at least Jaskier had. Geralt got enough to function.

“I’ll fix breakfast in a little bit,” Jaskier sighed, snuggling down deeper against him with a cute yawn. “My coat is here somewhere. Maybe today we can look for it and get out of here. I think Aaberg hid it here when he first took me. Probably meant to sell it and forgot or something. I dunno. We’ll find it though.”

A pang of sadness shot through his chest but Geralt kept his mouth shut. He would tell him his plans later tonight but for now, he let himself enjoy their morning, pressing a kiss against the creature’s temple.

Once he was sufficiently awake, Jaskier sat up with a yawn and a stretch, buttoning his shirt back up. “I stole some eggs from a neighbor yesterday. It’s been cold enough outside I figured they’d be alright.”

Geralt nodded, agreeing by the looks of frost that curled up the glass panes of the windows.

Split lips pressed against his sweetly before Jaskier stood, exiting the room.

Geralt took time to stretch out his muscles, working his way to standing before making his way out of the room and into the kitchen where Jaskier had a fire going, humming an off-key tune with the occasionally silly dance move.

It was the picture of domesticity if he didn’t account for how Jaskier couldn’t use one arm and how battered and bruised he was still or that there was a very dead guy not but a few feet away from them. He could almost picture some weird, alternative life where this was their morning every day, that they weren’t a mutant and a monster playing house.

Jaskier cooked the eggs over the stove, sliding the pan in front of Geralt and scooping some of it off for himself onto a plate, plopping down at the table in front of him.

Jaskier deserved so, so much better than him. He deserved a life like this- calm easy mornings, something Geralt could never give him.

They ate breakfast in relative silence, Jaskier interjecting the occasional meaningless thought to make Geralt smile or react.

“Okay, list for today,” Jaskier stood once they were finished. “Care for horses, pack up the bags, find my coat, get the hell out of here, yeah?”

“Easier said than done but. Yes.” Geralt agreed, following him back to their room.

Three arms and one uninjured back between them made for interesting maneuvering but they managed to pack up the bedroll and their few belongings into a single heap, ready to load onto their horses.

He thought about making it easier on both of them to separate things now but when Jaskier threw a pretty smile over his shoulder, he couldn’t bring himself to ruin it.

Jaskier may be an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid. Something was wrong. 

No matter how upbeat and positive he remained by hiding the empty feeling he felt now that the fear and excitement was over, Geralt kept the same somber look to his face when he thought Jaskier wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t his normally serious face either. There was something deep down in those golden vats that wasn’t there yesterday evening. It scared Jaskier more than anything. He wanted to know what the stubborn man was thinking, what absurd idea had been gnawing at him. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had done something wrong but as he brushed Buttercup’s mane and checked her hooves, he couldn’t think of anything that would have upset the witcher. Not that that meant he hadn’t done so, he could be a little dense sometimes, but he also got the feeling that wasn’t the problem.

It had been a long, long few days. He couldn’t wait to find his coat and leave the godforsaken town already, high tail it back to some other part of the continent far, far away from Lan Exeter. His home was so close, just a swim out into the sea but it didn’t feel much like a home anymore. What would he be returning to really? A cove and meaningless trinkets? If that was even still there. What mattered most to him anymore was on land standing next to him.

Besides, going home meant if he wanted to leave again, he’d end up in the same shitty tavern as before with the same shitty humans. He’d probably bump into the man, Seamore who had betrayed him and sold him like he was nothing but a good. It had been bad enough that Jaskier had bumped into him in the tavern when he set out to find Roach while Geralt slept off his healing potion. They had made eye contact in the dimly lit street. Jaskier was terrified, ready to bolt at any second but the man only nodded to him and walked off. It was a weird interaction that he never wanted a repeat performance of. 

He’d also find the same stark reminders that he meant nothing to humanity because his ancestors weren’t the same breed as them. And if he went home, where would Geralt go? He didn’t want to be where the Witcher wasn’t.

Jaskier would follow him to the ends of the earth if that’s where Geralt so wished to travel.

Geralt cared for his horse by his side, giving her love and quietly cooing about her being a good horse that made Jaskier grin like a maniac. He was rubbing off on him whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Once the pair was done and the horses were well-groomed and ready to ride, they set off back to the house.

“What does your coat look like?” Geralt asked once they reached the door, holding it open for him as they ducked inside.

“It’s brown on top and the belly of it is an off white kind of color,” Jaskier explained. “It’s like a warm water seal’s coat.”

Geralt paused. “Lan Exeter’s waters are cold.”

“But the mad sea? Right? Where I’m from? It’s warm. The closer you swim to the land where humans live the colder it gets. It’s how our young know when it’s not safe to go any further.”

Geralt hummed in understanding, taking stock of the rooms before making his way to where Aaberg still laid. He didn’t think the coat would be on him, but it couldn’t hurt to look. He was the one to search Aaberg’s body for the coat partly because Jaskier’s arm was so messed up still, partly because he loudly claimed the smell of decomposition was going to make him puke.

Jaskier refused to acknowledge the scream that left his lips when Geralt picked up the dead body and part of it fell onto the floor in a heap of maggots and decomposition.

He was both relieved and disappointed when it wasn’t on him. In the end, he determined it was a good thing. He’d lose his mind if his precious beautiful coat was wrapped around that pile of shit and decay.

“It’s not on him and I didn’t see the witch leave with it.” Geralt stood, dropping the body in a heap like discarded waste.

“It’s got to be here. I know it is,” Jaksier whined, worry tugging at the corners of his mind.

“You take the west side of the house. I’ll take the east,” Geralt gently put a hand on his shoulder, grounding him before he could spiral into despair.

With a nod, Jaskier did as he was told, checking the other room while Geralt walked off to the kitchen and living room area.

There wasn’t much to see in the next room. A single body, no bed to speak of. The home must have been abandoned long before Aaberg took it over as his base of operations. The stone walls didn’t seem out of the ordinary, nor did the wooden floors. Still, he searched every inch closely, no stone left unturned.

Hope was diminishing when he gave up on the room and walked out, seeing Geralt do the same with the living room area.

The only other room in his section of the home left to check was the room they had been staying in. He opened the door slowly, looking around at the stack of their belongings as if it would magically appear there, folded nicely and sitting on top of their bedroll.

It was not.

Glancing around it looked the same as the other room save for the lack of dead body sitting in the corner. Same grey stones, same wooden floor. Jaskier scanned the walls over and the floor, noting with a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach yet again nothing seemed out of place.

Giving up, he turned on his heel, ready to holler for Geralt to see if he had found anything when a board in the flooring caught his attention. 

Curiously, he walked towards the corner of the room, one that he hadn’t given too much thought to and kicked at the board with his boot. The board shifted some. Jaskier stomped down on it, delighted when it shook in its place. 

“Geralt! Geralt come on I need your help!!”

The Witcher was at the door in the instant. Jaskier pointed around the spot excitedly, bouncing on his heels. “Can you pry it up with your sword or something?”

“Why?” he asked, though he unsheathed the long blade, ready to do what Jaskier asked even as he questioned it.

“Call it a gut feeling,” Jaskier waved his arms in dismissal.

Geralt raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, digging the steel into the floor and pressing down, popping the board up with ease.

Jaskier dropped to the floor with a slam, sticking his arm into the darkness before Geralt could tell him not to and reaching around blindly. Nothing but cold hard ground and then-

“Oh my gods! Oh,” he cried, pulling the soft silk fur out through the floor.

It was just as soft as he remembered, a dark beautiful brown with lighter spots and a cream belly. Jaskier ran his fingers through the thin short hairs, content with the feeling before pulling it to his face, burying as much as he could into the skin. Fresh hot tears bubbled at the insides of his eyes, running down into the coat.

A hiccup forced its way out of his mouth, wrapping his arms around the skin in a comfortable embrace.

He felt whole for the first time since he last took it off. Like the joy someone felt when they found they had been sitting on the last piece of the puzzle and all hope of finishing it wasn’t lost. Everything was right and whole and beautiful.

Jaskier looked up at Geralt who was watching him with unease, unsure what to do with himself for the moment. He reached out, wrapping a hand around his knee and caressing the fabric of his pants. “Thank you.”

Once the emotional turmoil finally settled, he unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it off to the corner in disregard. He could feel Geralt’s eyes running over his body as he did, but sex wasn’t the goal with his undressing. He wanted to feel the coat as he draped it across his shoulders, wrapping it around his waist to save him from the cool air of the room.

“It’s beautiful.” Geralt spoke quietly.

Jaskier smiled brightly, the tear trails of elation drying tacky to his cheek. “Thank you.”

When he stood again, he stood with renewed confidence. The future looked brighter than ever, brighter than it did even when he first met the Witcher next to him, brighter than when he realized he loved him and that Geralt probably loved him back. Now it was different, a new outlook on life. 

They could travel together now he realized, nothing could hold him back. All of him was together again, no more red string that would keep him searching, no more past abusers chasing after them. Just all of him and all of Geralt.

He couldn’t stop himself as he reached out for Geralt, cupping his cheek and drawing him into a long, deep kiss. 

What Jaskier wasn’t expecting was when he pulled away, smiling so hard it hurt was Geralt's sad, mournful face.

“What’s wrong?” Jaskier asked, taken aback. Had he done something wrong?

“I… Jas,” he sighed, pulling away. “I can’t do this.”

Jaskier froze, confused. “What do you mean? Do this?”

Geralt looked around the barren room, avoiding Jaskier’s searching eyes. “You found your coat. Aaberg is dead. It’s time for me to go.”

“Right.” Jaskier fought back the panic that was growing in his lungs like vines. “We move on together. We can go back to monster hunting and whatever it is you do-“

“No. I’m not taking you with me.”

Jaskier jumped, ready to defend himself. “Why? I can take care of myself just fine you know-“

“No. You can’t.” Geralt interrupted. “You’re an idiot. You run headlong into things and don’t think. Every time I find myself in a pile of shit these days you’re the one shoveling it. You get us in more trouble than it’s worth.”

The words stung like a knife wound to the heart. Geralt knew it too, a regretful look flashing across his face before he hid it behind an expression of stone. “You have your coat now. I’m leaving.”

Jaskier wasn’t going to cry. Not with Geralt watching him the way he was. Instead, he snarled out a hateful sneer to protect himself. “Fine. Good, go.”

Geralt stared at him for a minute and Jaskier felt something snap inside, something twisted and ugly roaring in his heart. “Go!”

Geralt turned, walking over to their things and slinging all their belongings into one arm. Without a second glance, he walked out the door, leaving Jaskier in the silence.

He waited until he heard the front door shut.

He waited until he heard Roach walk off.

He waited until the sunset and the room was cast in the dying light of the day.

Jaskier’s entire body felt numb and even his coat couldn’t stop the shiver in the lonely room. His mind replayed every moment of their interactions of the past day, the past week, the past month they had spent together. Every long night, every long kiss, nothing had given the indication he had did something wrong. Up until today, he thought Geralt loved him too. And sure it was a bit soon to love each other, not even a full month, but he knew what he felt and he saw it in the Witcher too with how he’d smile at Jaskier, how he’d let him do damn near anything, how he trusted him. It didn’t make sense.

As the morning sun rose over the sleepless night Jaskier looked around. He couldn’t stay here. So what if the Witcher’s love wasn’t meant for him? Was he going to stay there and cry for the rest of his life?

The need to get away from everything burned like a fire in his chest curdling the hurt into something raw and painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch. That hurt me to write lmao. I promise it gets so much better though with the next and final chapter. What did ya'll think?


	9. I will Wait by the River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After striking a deal with Yennefer, Geralt embarks on a quest for forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters posted at once! This is the last real chapter though, the epilogue is more of a silly side story. I don't know what to do with myself now that this story is finished. I don't even know what to feel anymore lol

Four months.

Four months and still Geralt dreamt of his fellow traveler, bright blue eyes and goofy smiles and ridiculous words; dramatic actions and a voice like honey and as powerful as a storm.

The tavern was a miserable place, or maybe that was him, he couldn’t be sure. Monster guts dried into his hair in clumps, promising hell for his next bath. He smelt like death and looked just as bad.

The barmaid turned her nose up at the smell, hiding a gag as she took his order for ale and slid it to him, hurrying away before she could collect payment. 

Free beer he supposed.

Taking his usual table in the back, he sat down, chugging the alcoholic beverage down faster than he could swallow. After such a wild hunt he was dehydrated, but the beer tasted much better than water at the moment.

Geralt kept his distance from Lan Exeter- from Tango completely- but he couldn’t help but imagine walking into a tavern or an inn, a new town on a new day and seeing Jaskier sitting there like he hadn’t hurt him and left. When he walked outside to collect Roach he imagined Buttercup ties next to her, waiting patiently for her owner’s return.

And every time he wasn’t there it was a fresh new pain. It wasn’t a jolt to his system anymore like it was the first few weeks, but a dull throb of want needling it’s way into his heart.

He tried to continue his life from before he met Jaskier. A nomad, traveling from job to job living off the coins he received and accepting nothing but, sleeping with the prettiest thing he could find when it suited him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how, and he had to the best of his ability.

But nothing felt the same.

“You stink.”

Geralt looked up, surprised to see bright purple eyes glaring him down and arms crossed over a flowing black dress that clung to her figure in all the right places.

“Yen,” he smiled tightly.

“Mm. Absolutely reek,” she shook her head, plopping down into the seat across from him with a look of disdain. “Where’s your little monster at?”

“Killed it,” his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why was she asking when she could clearly see and definitely smell the guts coating his every inch.

She seemed to be taken aback by the shock flashing across her features, breaking the knowing bemused grin she usually sported. “You killed him after all that work to save him?”

Oh.

“Jaskier.”

Right, Jaskier.” Yennefer nodded along. “Where’s he at?”

“Left him in Lan Exeter.”

“Is that why you’re so sad?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, not commenting on the ridiculous notion. He wasn’t _sad_.

More like heartbroken, but he wasn’t about to admit that to anyone, much less Yennefer.

“Can you drop the Witcher’s don’t feel act for a moment, please? It’s annoying after a while, thanks,” sarcasm dripped from her words before she stated sincerely, “you fell in love with him.”

“I did not.”

Her smile was smug, all-knowing with a hint of evil. “Yes, you did.”

“Yen.” He warned.

She wasn’t intimidated by him in the least, she never had been. “Geralt and Jaskier sitting in a tree…”

Geralt cut her off with a harsh bark. “Stop.”

“Did you sleep with him?” No response. “You did. Good. I called it.”

Geralt didn’t answer, slurping down the ale faster, ready to go find an inn and be rid of her nagging and teasing. He wasn’t in the mood.

“You seem miserable.” Yen leaned forward teasingly, running her hands through the hair on his arms. “I could track him for you.”

“And why would you do that?” Geralt asked. It was tempting as it was baffling as it was every time Yennefer willingly offered her help and expertise. There always was a catch with her, at least this time she outright said it instead of hiding or playing games.

“Well you see, I ran into some trouble. Lost some,” she tilted her head. “All of my money, so I’ll make you a deal. I’ll track Jaskier down for you, you can stop wallowing in self-pity and loathing, and in return, you give me some coin and possibly,” she gave a hopeful smile. “Protection in case this trouble comes back to bite me in the ass. In a few months.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“That,” she leaned back coolly, ever the mysterious negotiator. “Is beside the point. Do you want my help or not?”

Not, would be the wise answer.

He made his bed when he left Lan Exeter, now he had to lie in it. He had left Jaskier for a reason too. He needed to protect him from this life and the danger associated with it.

But the past four months had been absolute hell without the creature by his side, so lonely and desolate he thought he was going mad. There was no pleasure to be found with any woman or even man that he picked up at the taverns that could compare to Jaskier, no bard strumming uselessly in the streets that sounded as sweet as him. It felt like he was searching in every town he came upon for someone who could hold a match to Jaskier’s flame, all of them simmering out like nothing. 

He needed him like he needed air to breathe. No, that wasn’t the right analogy to use, he supposed. He could function without him- any healthy relationship could. But he wasn’t truly living. He needed Jaskier just like he needed to play in lakes and take useless breaks that slowed him down. Jaskier has brought him so much in such little time. He couldn’t remember the last time he _felt_ so much. The joy the fun exuberance the heartbreak- he needed it _back_. 

Geralt fishes around in his pocket, slamming down his entire coin satchel, much to Yen’s delight.

  
  
  


The second Yennefer told him over her scrying bowl back in his room at the local inn where Jaskier was, he was off without a second to spare. She objected, asking if he wanted to share the bed for the night with a lustful light to her eyes. As tempting as it was though, he had someone waiting for him. 

Roach rode easily through the streets, fast through the night. At first, the scenery was all new to him but the trail soon became familiar as he found the way to Lan Exeter that the pair had taken together so long ago. He could almost feel Jaskier pressed against his back before they got Buttercup, riding together, both still so untrusting and unsure of each other. 

The night turned today before he stopped just long enough to let Roach rest and to find something to eat, setting off again as soon as possible. It felt different from how they usually traveled, even Roach seemed more antsy than usual, not wanting to stop for too long. It was probably her owner’s energy rubbing off on her but it only spurred Geralt on.

Occasionally he’d think he’d see a familiar tree. One that they had camped under one night or a spot that felt like deja vu. He shook off the feeling, chalking it up to the imagination. There was no way he could remember something so exact.

Geralt thought about what he would say to him as he rode, how he would apologize; if he would accept it or even hear him out.

The thought stung more than he’d ever care to admit. 

A few days into traveling, Geralt did recognize the area without a doubt in his mind. The deep basin with mountains and trees galore and a lightly worn trail leading down to the lake that filled the area. Geralt slowed Roach to a stop, staring down at the water glinting in the sunlight.

He didn’t account for the hopeless longing that would crawl under his skin or the self-deprecation that filled his every thought. He was an absolute idiot.

Geralt rode on with a renewed vigor, pushing his horse into a steady run until he had to let up on her, deciding next town they stopped in he would get her as many treats as she could eat if she wanted in reward. A week. He remembered telling Jaskier they had a week left towards Lan Exeter from the lake.

He made it in four days.

The gothic towers loomed eerily into the sky but he pushed past them and straight through the streets. Word of the massacre must have gotten around the large town as villagers gawked and cringed away, one man throwing a stone that barely missed his head. That was fair, he deserved it. But if they were this hostile towards Geralt, could it be the people acted the same way with Jaskier? 

He hoped with every fiber in his being that they didn’t.

Yennefer’s tracking spell didn’t account for if he was alive or not.

That. That thought struck fear into the Witcher’s heart like no other.

The moon was rising on the horizon, the pinks and purples and golds of the sky casting everything in gold as the sun sunk lower and lower with each passing step.

Geralt ducked down an alleyway and found a stable for Roach, giving the stable boy his coin to care for her well. He gave her a gentle pat on the nose before leaving her there and starting on his way.

He didn’t know where exactly in the town Jaskier was, or that he was even on land anymore, so he started with places he knew- the two taverns on the edge of the town he had visited once before. It was surreal walking back into the establishments looking as though nothing had changed.

Geralt made his way into the first one, hushing the crowd as they realized who was there. He scanned each and every face but none of them were him.

Ignoring a few insults, he turned on his heel and left. He didn’t have time to squabble with men. 

The next tavern was the same, Jaskier nowhere to be seen.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he went back to the home Aaberg’s men had used.

The front door was wide open, with no bodies to be seen. He checked each room, lingering on the floorboard that was still detached. He could still see the heartbroken expression Jaskier bore, the anger and resentment when he snarled for Geralt to leave.

By the time he exited the house, he was distraught. He was a hunter but he wasn’t having much luck hunting down the one creature that mattered the most.

Walking out behind the house in a last-ditch effort, he noticed a small river, not very wide and not very deep, closer to a creek in reality. 

A deep, unbridled urge to follow it took ahold of Geralt, squeezing in his chest. Unsure of why his brain was telling him to follow it, he trusted his intuition none the less. It hadn’t failed him yet.

The moon was high in the sky, illuminating the night as he walked alongside the river, following it until it widened into a lake type area and finally out into the sea, feeding back into it over its rocky shore.

“Jaskier?” he called on a whim out into the sea.

No response.

“Jaskier?”

He felt ridiculous shouting at nothing and the nothing responded with silence in kind. Losing hope, he plopped his ass down onto a rock, staring out into the ocean, the calming tide helping to ease the tension he gathered in his shoulders.

Geralt wasn’t about to rest until he found him. He’d spend the rest of his years searching if he had to.

“I’m sorry.”

The words left his lips on impulse, whispered to the sea like it was the magic password that would spit his lover back out to him. “I shouldn’t have left. I was stupid,” he bumbled on, admitting things to the water he had never said before. “I was scared to lose you.”

The silence of the night was peaceful, nothing but the crashing waves that sent chilling droplets of water with the breeze, coating his skin.

It felt like what he deserved; to sit outside on the brink of the shore and freeze.

“Geralt?”

The Witcher turned his head so hard his neck hurt, searching for the voice.

Jaskier looked good, wrapped in his coat, nose and cheeks pink from the cold. His hair was shorter than it had been, though it was still a tousled mess as usual and his eyes were bright in the darkness.

“Jas,” he stood, noting the way the creature cringed at the name. “Jaskier,” he corrected himself.

“Why are you here?”

The words were cold, no emotion behind them, not that he could really ask him to be excited to see him after the way he had treated him, the things he had said.

“I…”

The words were thick on his tongue. Geralt approaches Jaskier, the fresh smell of earth and flowers- dandelions filling the space between them.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier blinked. “You’re sorry.”

Geralt nodded in confirmation.

“You’re…” jaskier snorted. “You’re sorry. After all of _that_.”

“Jas,”

“No. Nope, It’s gonna take more than those two little words,” Jaskier frowned at him, wrapping his arms around himself, shifting uncomfortably.

“How can I make it up to you then?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could think them through, but he would stand by them in a heartbeat.

Jaskier seemed confused for a second. “Make it up? I don’t know,” he floundered. “A better apology then that I guess. Grovel a little bit Geralt.”

Grovel?

It wasn’t something he had ever needed or wanted to do before but he knew the gist of it. Geralt reached out, taking Jaskier by his arms gently and pulling him closer, voice soft and pleaded. “Jaskier, I’m a dumbass. I’m sorry I ever left. I won’t do it again. I was… scared,” he bit out, much harder to say in the presence of another.

He started to get down on his knees, anything to please him when his eyes widened, grabbing onto his arm. “Don’t do that, fucking hell.”

Geralt paused. “You told me to grovel.”

“In hindsight, I didn’t mean that,” Jaskier cupped his cheek, pulling him into a kiss.

Geralt melted. It was everything he had been craving for four months, wrapping his arms around the creature’s waist and pulling him closer against him.

“Do you forgive me?” he whispered against his lips.

“No but it’s a start.”

That was fair. 

Jaskier was the first to pull away out of the embrace, looking behind Geralt at the sea. “I was going to go back to my cove tonight, but I’d be alright staying in an inn.”

Geralt took to the idea like a duck to water. “Let’s go.”

The walk there was more or less silent, Geralt not being one to talk much and Jaskier feeling too awkward and unsure to strike up a conversation.

They made it to the inn, Jaskier peeping over his shoulder as he paid the lady and the front desk for her last available room.

The room wasn’t bad, and there was finally a bed. It was the first the two had shared again since the inn when they first met.

Geralt knelt in front of the fireplace, using his magic to ignite the logs rather than spending too much precious time trying to start a fire by hand. 

When he stood again, Jaskier was sitting on the bed apprehensively.

“What now?” He spoke up noticing Geralt’s attention turned on him.

“It’s up to you,” the Witcher kept his voice soft, not demanding or pushing. He would approach the bed until he got a clear signal it was alright. Jaskier had every right to be pissed off at him, to not want what going to the inn had implied.

“Come here then,” he patted the bed.

Geralt was quick, taking a seat next to him on the plush bedding. They were close enough he could feel his body heat against his arm, their thighs near pressed together side by side.

“I’m torn.”

Geralt looked at the creature, puzzled.

Jaskier sighed theatrically. “Do I want to talk or fuck. I can never decide.”

“Hm. That does sound like a problem you’d have.”

Jaskier slapped his arm playfully, holding back a snicker.

Geralt cracked his own half-smile at him. He missed this, their playful banter

“Are you going to leave again?”

The words cut the ease the jokes had created like a knife.

“No.”

“Good.”

He suddenly had a lap full of Jaskier, thighs bracketing his and arms around his neck, drawing him in for a deep kiss. “If you do, I’ll drown you.”

Geralt chuckled, kissing him again. “You would miss me.”

“Only a little. I still don’t forgive you fully. You’ll have to make it up to me.”

The Witcher manhandled the creature up the bed until his head hit the soft pillows up top, hair splashing out wildly onto it with a grin.

Jaskier playfully held his hands above his head. “How do you feel about roleplay? Oh no, I, a terrible creature have fallen prey to a mighty Witcher, whatever will I do?”

“I think you’re dramatic.”

“Oh come on, have a little fun, we haven’t seen each other in months.”

“No.” Geralt cut him off, placing a bite to his neck that made him squeal, cringing his neck away only for Geralt to force his neck to the side to continue marking over his neck. As he pushed the shirt down further and further he found old bruises, people who thought they could claim what was his.

He had no right to be jealous, he had his fair share of partners in four months but it ignited a fire inside, spurring him on to make his own marks over theirs.

“Fuck,” Jaskier whimpered as Geralt tugged his shirt off over his head before diving back down, taking a nipple into his mouth and one in between his fingers, taking his time to work them over, feeling Jaskier wiggle underneath him.

Jaskier whined, rocking his hips up into Geralt, grinding down on him, slowly hardening through his pants. Geralt himself was growing stiff, pleased with the way his lover writhed in the sheets though he had barely touched him.

His pants were the next to go, along with Geralt’s clothes, the pair eyeing each other.

Jaskier reached out, grazing his fingertips along the scar that was left behind from the sword piercing his back. There were new ones too, littering his body and merging in with the old ones, some still fresh enough to ache in the mornings. Jaskier took time admiring his body, touching every curve of muscle and scar there ever was. Geralt watched every place his hands touched with a fondness before capturing one, placing a gentle kiss to the knuckles.

“That,” Jaskier spoke up, blush to his cheeks. “Was smooth as fuck.”

The moment was gone in an instant but Geralt couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed. He placed another kiss on his lips and slid further down the bed. 

“Oh?” 

“ _Oh,”_ Jaskier breathed as Geralt took his cock into his mouth. Jaskier was smaller than him but not so small that swallowing him down wasn’t a feat. Still, he made it to the base, bobbing his head as thighs surrounded his head and a hand wound its way into his hair in a way no one else could ever make feel as good.

Looking up, glowing blue met gold, his face flushed and chest heaving, hips stuttering every now and then in an effort not to choke the Witcher.

He pulled off with a pop, pointing to the dresser. “Look for oil.”

“Oil?” Jaskier asked in a daze. “Oil, right.”

He sat up, throwing the drawer open and grappling for the rolling sound, tossing the bottle to Geralt and excitedly laying back down where he was. “How’d you know it was there?”

“There’s a brothel down the street,” Geralt smirked.

“That’s gross,” he wrinkled his nose as Geralt poured some of the liquid into his hands. He leaned back down, swallowing Jaskier down, making the man gasp as his well-oiled hand found his ass, spreading his cheeks and rubbing a finger across his hole, the muscle twitching at the stimulation before he slid it in.

Jaskier did buck his hips down at that, trying to hurry Geralt along. Tonight though wasn’t going to be fast and rough like it so often was between them. Geralt was going to take his time with him, taking him apart slowly and methodically.

He continued on with one finger, fucking him painfully slow until he gave a disgruntled whine. “Please, Geralt I need more.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed around him, adding a second finger to be nice. He curled the digits up, caressing his sweet spot that made him ache, drawing a moan from his lips, sweet like honey.

“I... please, please,” Jaskier begged, hips giving a frustrated jerk. Geralt ignored him, pulling off his cock before he could get too close to cumming, choosing instead to pepper kisses and bites along the inside of his thighs, teasingly. His cock twitched with every harsh nip, grip tightening in his hair, tugging at the strands until they fell from the band holding it out of his face.

When he glanced back up, Jaskier’s eyes were watery, clenched shut. “Come on, don’t do this to me, its been months, no one can compare, just fuck me already.”

Geralt smirked at the compliment, giving in to his demands, pulling his finger’s out- though the action didn’t seem to please Jaskier either who whimpered in disapproval. Geralt gave him a pointed look, silencing the complaining in an instant as he reached for the bottle that had rolled some in the bed, popping the cork off again and pouring liquid in his hand again, oiling his cock in a few good tugs. It was easy to get lost in the feeling, the first touch to his aching cock, but sliding into Jaskier’s wet heat was much better than his hand.

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier gasped, breath stuttering and catching on his swords as Geralt slid home.

Geralt, leaned over his body, one hand gripping his leg and the other supporting his wait next to his head, leaning down to whisper in his ear “can you sing for me?”  
Jaskier wrapping his leg around tighter, pulling Geralt impossibly closer. “Gods, you can’t just say things like that, I might die-”

Geralt silenced him with a kiss, drawing his member out and thrusting back into him slowly and leisurely, ignoring his need to jackhammer into his pliant body as his cock demanded.

He smelt like sweat and arousal, Geralt noticed as he nosed at his chin, forcing his head back to bite at his throat again. That same, comforting flowery smell underneath that made Geralt relax, letting loose a tension he had carried in his shoulders for so long. He continued to thrust, but it felt like a weight had been lifted from him, being back in the creature’s arms.

Jaskier noticed, running his hand from the witcher’s neck and down to his shoulders. At a particularly rough thrust, his nails dug into the skin, scratching at his back and urging him on. Geralt obliged, fucking him faster and harder until the scratch began to hurt. He reached back, grabbing his hand back and intertwining their fingers, holding his hand down above his head before he remembered. Before he could pull his hand back, Jaskier gripped his hand harder, keeping it where it was, “is’fine,” he words bled together, capturing Geralt’s lips in a bruising kiss.

The closer they got the further they fell apart, panting against each other’s lips. Geralt took Jaskier’s cock in his hand, rubbing and massaging him until his ass tightened around his own cock like a vice, cumming with a loud moan of his name.

Geralt didn’t stop, stroking him over as he chased his own orgasm. He was a sight to see, brown hair sticking to the pillows, sweat dampening his forehead, face red, chest heaving, and trembling as Geralt continued to toy with his cock until he whined: “stop it I can’t come again.”

“Mmm,” Geralt grunted out, unable to form much more of a sentence, his abdomen tightening as he spilled over the edge, stilling inside his lover, basking in each throb of pure white-hot pleasure.

Geralt, collapsed next to Jaskier on the bed, catching his breath as Jaskier did the same.

“I love you.”

The words were soft, murmured quietly in the night.

Geralt looked over at Jaskier who looked at him with worry churning in the blue irises. He wasn’t one that cared much for words. He preferred action but this time, he’d make an exception, staring up at the ceiling. 

“I love you.”

He could sense the blissful smile that quirked on Jaskier’s lips as he snuggled up against Geralt, drifting to much deserved sleep, the witcher close behind.

Geralt had long since had a standing rule that there would be absolutely no substitution for payment. It was coin and coin alone. But, this time, he couldn’t help but think back to when he unwittingly accepted Jaskier by punching that man in the face, was an alright exception to that rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, let me know what you thought! I love getting feedback, reading everyone's comments throughout this series really helped push me to finish it! Thank you so much for reading!


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt does not appreciate the ocean as much as Jaskier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt out of his element? Vaguely scared? Hell yeah. Lots of people are afraid of the ocean and I'm definitely picturing Geralt as being one of them lol

One year was a long time. Five was even more. Maybe not in relativity to a Witcher’s lifespan or a selkie/fossegrim one but it was long enough to learn each other’s quirks. They shared beds and secrets and clothes (more Jaskier taking Geralt’s things than Geralt trying to squeeze himself into his). They had made plans to travel to the ends of the wild and back, learned to trust full-heartedly and fell ever deeper in love.

Geralt was regretting all of that in this instant.

The water was fucking freezing.

They hadn’t been back to Lan Exeter since those first few nights in the hotel together after Geralt had apologized. After those four months apart, they weren’t far from each other for more than a week at a time, usually only when Geralt went on a hunt or when they got in a fight. 

“It’s cold,” Geralt growled, teeth clenched to stop them from chattering endlessly, swimming farther and farther out into the ocean. The waves were blissfully calmer in this area, having already made it past the roughest part. Still, salty water splashed in his mouth, dragging him under occasionally when he couldn’t maneuver his way through a wave in time before it washed over him.

Jaskier laughed, swimming out further. “It’s not so bad once you get out there.”

Easy for him to say.

Fucking sea creatures.

“Thanks,” Geralt grumbled as another wave dragged him under while Jaskier maneuvered above with ease and a giggle. “I hate it.”

“Oh hush, you know Geralt I am trying to share something important and meaningful with you and you are being very ungrateful.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, swimming out further.

Jaskier had enough of him going so slow eventually, grabbing onto his arms and swimming further and further away from shore until the land became a blurry dot off in the distance. True to his word the water did warm up as the fog rolled in, isolating the pair from civilization. At first lukewarm and then an enjoyable temperature like a tropical island of some kind. The air around them also warmed with the fog, though Geralt still occasionally shivered as his body grew used to the new temperatures. 

Geralt tried to keep up, doing his best to swim in time but Jaskier was obviously much better and faster than him, pulling him along like it was nothing. 

Geralt grumbled when he could get the grunts of dislike out of his mouth between the waves that only calmed as they grew closer to the sharp rocks in front of them, promising pain if they were to be swept up in the tides that crashed over them.

Jaskier dove down below the water, his tail flapping above the water for a second before disappearing from view, leaving Geralt alone in the water, worn out and so far from shore.

It was disconcerting. He didn’t have the upper hand, feeling inexperienced and especially vulnerable. He didn’t like it at all.

Just as he began to worry, Jaskier popped back up, talking excitedly. “I swam as far down as I could and still couldn’t see the bottom! That’s crazy,” he stared down at the water, missing Geralt’s face go pale at the description of things he couldn’t see.

“I thought you said there was a cove,” he urged, unwittingly glancing down at the dark blue waters as if he could possibly see anything in their depths that may be coming for them as they sat there, completely defenseless. It didn’t make sense to swim out with full armor and sword, Jaskier laughed at him for wearing shorts as if his coat only wrapped up to his waist didn’t provide the same amount of protection for him. He had briefly thought about shifting completely, but decided against it, wanting to be able to talk with Geralt the same as they usually did.

“Patients,” Jaskier smirked, diving back down.

Geralt’s eyes widened as he took a startled gasp of air before hands around his ankle pulled him down into the depths.

The saltwater burned his eyes but he fought through it until he was sure it was Jaskier and not some miscellaneous other sea creature in the area. It was the mad sea after all.

Eyes squeezed shut, he wasn’t prepared for a kiss to be planted on his lips, Jaskier’s laughter carrying out under the water.

“I didn’t know you were afraid of the ocean.”

I’m not, he wanted to growl back. What he was scared of was a being sitting duck with a bottomless abyss underneath them.

Jaskier pulled him down even further, completely in his element. “Open your eyes.”

Geralt did begrudgingly just as a fish swam past his face, eliciting a fight or flight response from Geralt who jerked back in surprise, swatting at the poor fish much to the creature’s amusement.

Looking around, it was beautiful. Even the deep blue abyss below them was stunning in its own terrifying way. The corals growing on the sharp rocks beside them were all different colors, beautiful oranges, and tans, some pink and green. The fish were unlike anything he had ever seen before- abnormally bright in all arrays of color. A shark swam by, its slitted eyes shifting to the pair for a second but didn’t linger, joining its friends further out.

Taking in the beauty around him, he couldn’t help but realize how much Jaskier fit in with the stunning wildlife and scenery. He was gorgeous, and the abnormally beautiful blue eyes didn’t seem as supernatural anymore- fitting in more here than on land.

Jaskier smiled brightly as Geralt took it all in. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Geralt didn’t- couldn’t- answer, but Jaskier didn’t expect him to.

When his air ran out, he floated back to the surface, gasping to catch his breath.

“We can go to the cove in a second, it’s just as pretty,” he said excitedly. “Flowers and trees and waterfalls, it’s a whole rainforest over there.”

Geralt couldn’t help but smile as Jaskier continued to blabber as he pulled him around the rocks to the shoreline, the land finally meeting his feet in place of an endless sea and easing his mind some.

He truly loved the creature, and he knew the feeling was returned just as strong.

The thought of having to eventually swim back out, however, made the smile drop from his face in an instant. The ocean wasn’t something he enjoyed as much as Jaskier seemed to. The things one does for love, he supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for reading! Let me know what y'all think!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think so far and come talk to me on twitter! @Jellypanda00


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